from his grand tour, that she had found herself in his presence
without witnesses, for she had carefully avoided being alone with him.
This had not escaped Bertram's notice, and he had therefore determined
to take advantage of the present opportunity to have his fate decided.
But yet he did not venture to speak, and the words died away on
his lips as he remarked her silent, indifferent composure. As he
contemplated her, memories of former days rose up before him. He
saw her as, half child, half maiden, she clung trustingly and
affectionately to his side, and with charming blushes listened to the
teasing jokes of her father. Then her whole soul lay open and clear
before him; then she disclosed to him the entire treasure of her pure,
full heart, and all the fanciful and dreamy thoughts of her young
virgin soul were perceptible; then he had participated in her joys,
her little sorrows, every feeling which agitated her breast.

And now, why was it all so different?

A deep, painful melancholy took possession of him, and made him
overcome his fear of her decision. He sat down resolutely at her side,
and took her hand.

"Elise," said he, "do you still remember what you said to me three
years ago, as I took leave of you?"

She shook her head and turned her eyes toward him. These eyes were
full of tears, and her countenance was agitated with painful emotion.

Bertram continued: "You then said to me, 'Farewell, and however far
you may travel my heart goes with you, and when you return I will be
to you the same loving, faithful sister that I now am.' These were