Night had come; the village night-watch had announced the tenth
hour; no light gleamed through the windows--the busy noise and
bustle of day had given place to deep quiet. The whole village was
at rest, every eye was closed. No one saw Charles Henry as he
passed, with a bundle under his arm, and took the path leading to
the old school-house--no one but the moon, that was gleaming
brightly above, and was illuminating the solitary wanderer's path.

For the first time he found Anna Sophia's door open--he had no need
to knock. He entered undisturbed with his bundle, which contained
the suit of clothes Anna had desired.

Half an hour later the door was opened, and two tall, slenderly
built young men left the house. The moon saw it all; she saw that
the man with the hat on, and with the bundle on his back, was none
other than Anna Sophia Detzloff, daughter of the old school-teacher.
She saw that the one who was following her, whose countenance was so
ghastly pale--not because the moon was shining upon it, but because
he was so sad, so truly wretched--that this other was Charles Henry
Buschman, who was coward enough to let his bride go to battle in his
stead! The moon saw them shake hands for the last time and bid each
other farewell.

"Let me go a little bit of the way with you, Anna Sophia," said
Charles Henry; "it is so dark, so still, and soon you will go
through the woods. It is best I should be with you, for it is so
fearfully gloomy. Let me accompany you, Anna Sophia."

"I have no fear of the woods," said she, gently: "the stars above