will watch over and guard me, the moon will shed her light upon my
path, it will not be dark. I must go my way through life alone--I
must have no fear of any thing, not even of death. Leave me now, and
be careful that you are seen by no one during the whole of tomorrow
in my house. No one will go there tomorrow, for I have left word in
the village that I am going on a visit to my aunt at Cleve. I have
prepared your meals for you; the table is set, and above, in my
room, you will find books to read. You can stand it for one day,
tomorrow evening you will be released. Farewell, Charles Henry!"

"Do not go, Anna Sophia," said he, weeping and trembling; "I will
go. I will force my heart to be courageous! You must stay here."

"It is too late," said Anna: "nor could you do it, Charles Henry.
You are afraid of the dark woods, and what comes beyond is much more
fearful. We have taken leave of each other, the worst is past. Kiss
your father for me, and when at times you are sitting upon the old
bench, remind him of Anna Sophia."

"I will obey you," whispered he.

But Anna was not listening to him; she had turned from him, and was
hastening down the road.

The moon saw it all! She saw the tears steal slowly from Anna
Sophia's eyes, and fall unknown to herself upon her cheek, as she
turned her back upon her old home and hastened forward to a life of
danger, privation, and want. She saw Charles Henry leaning upon the
door of the old school-house, staring after Anna with a trembling
heart until the last glimpse of her was lost in the distant woods.