"Trust in the Eternal Goodness! It is with thee !!! With thee!" repeated Nina, weeping vehe mently. life. And then-oh, dear reader! hast thou ever lost a friend who was dear to thee as life, and has thy injustice darkened your separation? Hast thou felt burning remorse, and hast known that never on earth canst thou confess that to Hervey arose. His voice trembled. "I the lost one? Hast thou had hours in which would see thee once again," said he; "I felt thy heart yearned after him or her so-so that that I must hear thee once more-must thank thy soul was rent asunder, and it felt as a mar- thee! Thy love has made me inexpressibly tyr that thou wouldst give thy life, thy ever- happy; the remembrance of it will brighten lasting salvation, only to see him again for one my whole life; it will be my joy in my last hour moment, to press his beloved hand, to cling tony hope in that other land where we shall the beloved breast, and to weep-and weep-? Hast thou ever felt thus? Oh, then wilt thou understand Nina; thou wilt understand her sufferings, and comprehend how that involun- Nina rose up. She knew not how it happentarily, with wildly beating heart, she extended ed, but he blessed her with such powerful, such her arms, and full of anguish, exclaimed, "Ed-heavenly words and tones, that a wondrous joy ward! Edward!" thrilled through her breast. She listened to his words as to the voice of God; and as he clasped her close to his heart-as he, for the first and the last time, pressed his lips to hers, then certainly stood invisible angels near them, and bowed their immortal heads in admiration of two loving and suffering mortals. He was The door of the saloon softly opened. A man habited in deep mourning stood there. At sight of him a shudder of terror and joy passed through Nina, and with a low exclamation she sprang up. The dark-clad man approached the door of the room in which she was, and there he remained standing; he leaned against the doorpost, and looked upon her with an indescribable glance. Suffering and death-like pallor lay upon his countenance. Ah! it was the look which Nina had seen in her dream; they were the beloved features; his hand lay upon his heart was it to hide the bleeding wound? Nina heard his short, excited respiration. Her first feeling was to throw herself in his arms, and hide her face on his breast-then she thought that she must flee away from him. "Edward! Edward!" cried she, "why are you come? Know you not that we are separated that I have renounced you?" meet again. Peace-blessing upon thee, thou angel! thou beloved! fulfil thy duties; live-for God's sake!" Nina woke as out of a dream. gone! She laid her hand on her forehead and felt his tears on her hair. She kissed them from her fingers with fervent love. 66 He has blessed me!" said she, and her soul was still. And as she stood there, praying in pain and rapture, adoring and full of foreboding, she saw, as once before had been the case, that the figure of the cross fell upon her breast, while the glory of heaven streamed around her. Now were the dark passages of her life made clear to her. Courage and determination returned again into her breast, and awoke there a higher and a higher heaven. BUT HE. After he had communicated to another tranquillity and peace, strength left his own breast. He stood still upon the threshold of his own lonely house, and looked back over "I come with no reproaches-I come to bless the devastated country; he contemplated the you," said Hervey, with heavenly goodness in ruins of his own happiness-his wholly desovoice and look. He advanced toward her, rais-lated life. A wretchedness, never before exed her, led her to the sofa, and seated himself by her. He held her hands firmly in his, and looked at her with a serious penetrating glance. "You did not doubt me?" asked he. "No! no!" was all that she was able to an "I know all,” replied Hervey. 'Forgive me!” cried Nina despairingly, and fell on her knees. swer. "Neither did I doubt you," continued he; and his countenance was lit by an angelic smile. "Well then, beloved!" said he, "we are not separated-not for ever séparated. For a short time here on earth are we severed from each other; then shall we meet again in heavenly love, in firm faith-our souls remain united! Eternally, inwardly beloved," continued he, "thou most lovely of God's gifts to my life! Have peace, peace-with thyself; peace with the Eternal power which disposed our fate! Thou hast done right! Thou couldst not have done otherwise! A higher power has spoken-we must obey !" "We must obey!" repeated Nina faintly. She bowed her head in the deepest grief, and leaned her forehead upon her closely clasped hands. "Be calm-be happy, even on earth; then shall I be not unhappy," said he. "Not unhappy?" repeated Nina. perienced, came over his soul, and with the Divine sufferer on the cross, he exclaimed, แ THE CHRISTIAN WARRIOR'S SONG. Cold, which would my strength impair! Up! with eye of clear sedateness, Read Heaven's law, writ bright and broad. Truth and goodness! up to God! Off the bonds of sloth, be brave- Him whom angels hymning praise! But wherefore this song? the reader will say. It suits the repentant sinner; the constant nun; it becomes the martyr; but not the soft and early married Nina! Yes, also her; but not only her-it becomes all who suffer and are tried unto purification. These will recognize it-it has tones and words from their own bosoms. CHAPTER XLIII. MARRIAGE-THE CRADLE THE GRAVE. Weep not for me, although before my summer, from sufferings she had gone through, lay she upon a snow-white pillow. A white bandage was closely bound round her forehead, concealing her hair. The white delicate lace of her cap bent itself as caressingly around her delicate countenance. All that surrounded her was dazzling white; she herself was like a snowdrift upon which the last rays of the sun falls. At her side lay, in its first morning sleep, her little daughter. I saw that Nina felt the joy of a mother. It was a charming sight to see those beautiful eyes beaming, to hear those WE array ourselves for marriages in flowers; and wear dark mourning-dresses for the last sor-graceful lips say, rowful festivity which attends a fellow-being to his repose. us. "Oh! no one knows what it is till they themAnd this often might be exactly re-selves have experienced it, at once freed from all pain, to see that a child is born-to stretch forth the hand, and really clasp it-to feel it. near one!" versed. But the custom is beautiful-for the sight of a young bride invites the heart involuntarily to joy. The festal attire, the myrtle wreath upon the virgin brows; all the affection- And her white, feeble hand was extended ate looks, and the anticipations of the future, caressingly over the little one, which seemed to which beautifully accompany her-all enrapture perceive it with pleasure. "She shall be callOne sees in them a new home of love raised Edla!" continued she, tenderly; "I will give ed on earth; a peaceful Noah's Ark on the wild to her a guardian angel. May she resemble flood of life, in which the white dove of peace her-" will dwell and build her nest; loving children, affectionate words, looks, and love-warm hearts, will dwell in the new home; friends will enjoy themselves under its hospitable roof; and much beautiful activity, and many a beautiful gift will thence go forth, and full of blessing diffuse itself over life. There stands the young bride, creator of all this hopes and joys go forth from her. No one thinks of sufferings at a marriage festival. I left Nina with the consolatory feeling that henceforth her life would not be joyless. But the image of the young, pale mother stood sorrowfully before my soul. Never had I seen a human being so pale. When I saw her another twelve months later she was still paler; but now it was natural, for she lay in her coffin, and was beautiful even there. Her little daughter was gone beforeshe followed her. I saw the stern Count Ludwig stand by the coffin. He wept like a child. When Nina felt her death approaching she And if the eyes of the bride stand full of tears; if her cheeks are pale, and her whole being-when the bridegroom approaches her, fear-wrote the following words to Hervey : ful and ill at ease-even then people will not think of misfortune. Cousins and aunts wink at one another and whisper, "I was just so on my wedding-day-but that passes over with time!" Does a more deeply and more heavily tried heart feel perhaps a sigh arise within, when it contemplates the pale, troubled bride, it comforts itself, in order not to disturb the marriage joy, with, "O that is the way of the world !" "I have lived-because thou wishedst it. Because thou blessedst me have I had strength to live at a distance from thee; and I have not been unhappy. I have known the joys of a mother, but the pains of a mother also. I die, and thank God. If I loved thee above all things on earth, the righteous God will not condemn me. It was my strength-my virtue. In this moment, in which all becomes already dark, Thus also comforted herself the Baroness H. and in which my eye will be extinguished-in on Nina's wedding-day, without being able to this moment art thou still the light and hope of find the least comfort in it. A hundred times my soul. O how like a beam of light didst thou had she whispered to her disquieted heart the break through the twilight of my life, and give above-mentioned phrase-yet notwithstanding, to me warmth and color! Ah! and I darkenthe tears filled her eyes as soon as she saw Ni-ed thine! But my time will also come to make Baron H. had already remarked it several thee happy-to make thee rejoice. Listen to times. He went to his wife and took her hand: me! My soul is about to depart; receive its "The boy sleeps," said he, " Clara sits by the last sighs, its last joyful hope-listen! In thy cradle, and will not come away from him." hour of death I will appear to thee. When it becomes evening to thee-when thy clear glance begins to grow dim, and the shadows of death to ascend around thee-then, then will it be permitted me to fetch thee into the world of na. The Baroness pressed her husband's hand. "Nina may become a mother," said she to herself consolingly; and in that she found the only comfort for the quiet, pale bride. Nina lay cold and almost unconscious in her arms on the even-light, where Edla is already beforehand, where ing of the marriage-day. "I will myself care for my daughter," said Countess Natalie, "leave her to me!" "I will not part with her out of my arms, let whoever may come !" replied the Baroness with decision, as even at that moment the bridegroom entered. The Countess went forward to meet him. Probably a year after this day I saw Nina again, and never shall I forget the sight. Pale she will learn to know and to love thee; where we forever inseparable shall be- I THINE. THOU MINE! I complain not that we are divided on earth. I was not worthy of thee. God has tried me, and has brought me nearer to thee. Edla, I come. When was I ever disobedient to thee, Edla? Edward! Beloved! O God bless thee, and be gracious to me for thy sake! God bless, God bless thee! NINA." WHEN a heart breaks under the burden of its sorrows when sickness strikes its root in wounds opened by pain, and life consumes away slowly to death, then none of us should say that that heavily-laden heart should not have broken; that it might have exerted its strength to bear its suffering. No; we would express no word of censure on that prostrated spirit because it could not raise itself-before its resurrection from the grave. has called all this forth? A man, whose life's. happiness was destroyed by fate-who knew no happiness but that which he prepared for others. Edward Hervey was the creator of this prosperity. He only rescued himself from the suffering which seized upon his life by compulsory activity of body and mind. Thus he conquered his suffering; and after he knew that Nina was no longer on earth, this victory was easier to him. Justified in the most splendid manner before the world, Hervey soon saw himself the object of the most honorable and distinguished attention; and advancement of every kind was offered to him. Honor and respect found him in his retired corner of the country; yet they had. no longer any power over him, and he calmly declined all. He preferred completing the work which he had begun, in the sphere in which he was already beloved and known. He cultivalittle community. He based all on order and duty, and gave the glory of it to God. His genthe glance-his prudent counsel-his strong hand-were ready for every one. He was never seen to be gay, but calm and friendly was he at all times. He loved mankind, honored goodness, and regarded with love all of beautiful which the world had to offer. His age was like his youth; his life was a divine service. But beautiful, strengthening, and glorious is the view of a man who presents a courageous and patient breast to the poisoned arrows of life; who without defiance and without weak-ted the land, and formed the manners of his ness, goes upon his way untroubled; who suffers without complaint; whose fairest hopes have been borne down to the grave by fate, and who yet diffuses joy around him, and labors for the happiness of others. Ah, how beautiful is the view of such a one, to whom the crown of thorns becomes the glory of a saint! I have seen more than one such royal sufferer, and have always felt at the sight, "Oh, could I be like this one-it is better than to be worldly fortunate!" But I must here remark a difference. There is a misfortune in which we see a higher hand, an inevitable fate it is like a thunder-stroke out of the clouds. But there are sufferings of another kind, of which the torture resembles a perpetual needle-pricking. These proceed from the hand of man; these arise in families, where married people, parents, children, only live one with another to make home a hell: there are the plagued and the plaguers; it were difficult to say which are most worthy of pity--the unhappy ones! The first kind of misfortune is most easy to endure. It is much, much easier to suffer under the hand of God than under that of man. Lightning from above gives death, or light and exhilaration; the prick from the hand of man wastes away life like a slow cancer; it embitters the heart-bitterness is the simoom of life; where it blows, there exists a desert. But even here is there a means of deliverance. There is an angel-patience which blunts the wounding-point, which sanctifies the sufferer under his pang, and at length improves others by this means. There is a Socratesic courage which converts all Xantippean shower-baths into refreshing rain; there is a hero-mood that breaks the chains which it finds too heavy to be borne. Many a tormented one proves himself, but he proves himself before a higher eye; he may, if he will, prevent his heart becoming embittered, for that is the worst that can happen to him. Observe this country, where otherwise thou sawest only unfruitful morasses, endless woods, desolate pastures. It is no more the same friendly habitations extend themselves in the valley and on the heights; large corn-fields rejoice the eye; numerous herds cover the rich meadows. Everything bears evidence of a country where all goes well in it. And who And might we not, my suffering friends, endure life better if, with powerful resolution, we turned away our thoughts from our pains; if we directed them to that which is higher and more beautiful? Does this world indeed lack of much for this purpose? Ah! there is so much that is good-so much that is noble in mankind--so much that is elevating in nature-so much that is rich in consolation in books-so much hope above the stars, and especially so much recreating strength in all occupation, and in all occupied persons. Who indeed grafts the fruit tree and does not enjoy the vigorous shoots and the promised fruit? The reader will remind me that I have forgotten the chief fountain of consolation and of joy-the deepest, the most curative, often the only one But why name that first which we all know so accurately, so inwardly? Besides, if there were not this fountain, who could attribute worth to the others? That which alone gives life to all, is a drop from the Eternal. But time speeds. The day of my history draws to its end-it is evening. The mists descend from the heights of Tarnas. Like fleeting, beckoning ghosts, they float onward. They rise up and sink down. They breathe over the earth mournful and damp. They softly spread the death-veil over the grass; wherever they pause, they leave tears behind. The wind sighs dyingly in the trees. It is evening. The mists creep around Hervey's small dwelling; they come up and gloom his windows, and veil from him the friendly earth. They seem as if they were come to fetch him thence, and draw up their light airy chariot. They seem to know that his last hour approaches, and that he is prepared for his journey. But will not my friendly readers be astonished that the pen, which ought only to be dedicated to pleasure, passes on from one death-bed to another, just as if every-day life were a continued procession of corpses? Fear nothing! Follow me yet a little way-you shall see no gloomy picture. Joyful young maiden, fear nothing. That which I shall exhibit to thee is only joy-glorious, blessed joy! Do not let the thoughts disturb thee that this sketch is only fiction I ASSURE THEE, IT IS ENTIRE, PURE TRUTH! so long. Hervey sinks in a light sleep; it seems as if death had taken hold on him, but he awakens once more, folds his hands, and exclaims with a joy which is no longer of the earth, 66 Ah, what glory! Is it possible that I am still on the earth? Is there here such bliss ? God-my God! What an atmosphere of heaven! Am I yet the same? Is it possible that Edward Hervey can be participant of joy like this on earth? Jesus! rich in love, that is thy life! thou dispensest overflowing measureEterna! love!" Night passes over, the morning dawns. Still tarries Hervey upon earth amid images of beautiful delight. A beam from the ascending sun pierces through the mist, and brightens the face of the dying man. His cheeks are illumined with a living glory-his eyes beam; he raises himself, extends his arms, and exclaims with an expression of superhuman joy and love— 66 Nina!" There sat at the window, in a comfortable arm-chair, the noble sufferer of whom our story has told. Powerless, but still and calm, he leaned with his head against the white pillows. A wonderful serenity rested upon the features of the dying man; dark locks, partially gray, fell over the clear, high forehead; he is not alone. The mother rests already in the quiet bosom of the earth; but Maria stands faithful ly by his side. She alone, in this hour, will he have with him. How the flame of light yet flickers before it goes out! It sinks, and then ascends; it dims, and then brightens anew-it He sinks back a corpse. His spirit is departwill not leave the covering in which it has dwelt ed. SHE conducts him. S |