sleep and rest, and a few
minutes after the deep dreamless slumber of youth chained both, until
Katterle, at the end of an hour, woke them.

Both used the favourable moments which follow the awakening from a sound
sleep to cherish the best thoughts and most healthful resolutions. When
Eva left her chamber she had clearly perceived what the last hours
had taken and bestowed, and found a positive answer to the important
question which she must now confront.

Els, like her lover, would cling fast to her love, and strive with
tireless patience to conquer whatever obstacles it might encounter,
especially from the Eysvogel family.

Before leaving home Eva adorned the beloved dead with the flowers,
leaves, and vines which the gardener had brought and she herself had
gathered, and at the church she put the last touches to this work so
dear to her heart. She gave the preference to the flowers which had been
her mother's favourites, but the others were also used. With a light
hand and a delicate appreciation of harmony and beauty she interwove
the children of the forest with those of the garden. She could not be
satisfied till every one was in the right place.

Countess Cordula had insisted upon attending the consecration, but she
had not known who cared for its adornment. Yet when she stood in the
church by the side of the open coffin she gazed long at the gentle face
of the quiet sufferer, charming even in death, who on her bright couch
seemed dreaming in a light slumber. At last she whispered to Els: "How
wonderfully beautiful! Did you arrange it?"

The latter shook her head, but Cordula added, as if soliloquising: "It
seems as though the hands of the Madonna herself had adorned a sleeping
saint with garden flowers, and child-angels had scattered over her the
blossoms of the forest."

Then Els, who hitherto had refused to talk in this place and this solemn
hour, broke her silence and briefly told Cordula who had artistically
and lovingly adorned her mother.

"Eva?" repeated the countess, as if surprised, gazing at her friend's
younger sister who, as the music of the organ and the alternate
chanting had just begun, had already risen from her knees. Cordula felt
spellbound, for the young girl looked as fresh as a May rose and so
touchingly beautiful in the deep, earnest devotion which filled her
whole being, and the white purity of her mourning robes, that the
countess did not understand how she could ever have disliked