only to where you were--one last look, before----"

"Before what--for heaven's sake!"

He had led her the few steps to the logs, and now stood, with his arm round her, close to the edge of the hill, which sloped so precipitously down from its frowning brow, that they seemed to be hanging immediately over the grey sea in the grey sky.

"Look, Elsa! There comes the storm. I hear it, I see it, as if it were already let loose. It may be hours first, but it will come, it must come with terrible fury. Everything shows signs of it. That leaden sea below us will be tossed in wild waves, whose spray will be thrown up even to this height. Woe to the ships that are not already safe in harbour, and perhaps even there they are not secure from its wild fury. Woe to the low-lying lands beneath us. I meant to have written to you this morning, because I saw it coming even yesterday, and to tell you that you would do better to leave Warnow, but you would not have gone."

"Never! I am so proud that you trust me, that you have told me this. And if the storm breaks, and I know that your dear life is in danger, I will be firm; or if I tremble I will not fear, only to myself I will say, 'He could not do his duty, he could not be the brave true man whom I love, if he knew that I were weeping and wringing my hands, whilst he must guide and command as on that evening;' do you remember? Do you know, my darling, that I loved you then! and do you remember you told me that I had the eyes of a sailor? Oh! how I remember every word, every look, and how pleased I was that I was not obliged to give you back the compass directly! I did not mean to keep it, I meant you to have it again."

"You were more honest then than I was, my darling. I was determined not to give you back your glove. You had taken it off when you were looking through my telescope; it lay on the deck and I took it up. Since then it has never left me. See! it has been my talisman. We sailors are superstitious. I have sworn never to part with it, until instead of the glove, I hold your dear hand in mine for ever."

He kissed the little grey glove before he returned it to his breast-pocket. They had again seated themselves on the stone--softly whispering, caressing, jesting, in loving talk, heart to heart and lip to lip, forgetting, in the paradise of their young love, the desert which surrounded them, the darkness which was ever deepening, and the storm which was brooding in the leaden air, over the leaden sea, like the angel of destruction over a world which he hoped to annihilate for ever, and to cast back into primeval chaos. A dull rumbling sound quivering in the distance attracted their attention; followed immediately by a sound of rushing through the air, without any motion that they could feel even at this height, and then again followed the deathlike stillness.

Reinhold sprang up.

"It comes quicker than I thought. We have not a moment to lose."

"What are you going to do?"

"To take you back."

"You cannot. You must be at your post. You did not come to Warnow this morning on account of it. How can you now absent yourself so far, when the danger is much nearer? No, no, my darling, do not look so anxiously at me. I must learn to live without fear, and I will. I am quite determined. From this moment there shall be no fear, even before the world. I cannot live any longer without you, and you cannot live without me. If I were still in ignorance--but now I know! And, believe me, my dear father will be the first to understand. He must have known already when he said to me, what he also wrote to you, 'I leave your fate in your own hands.' Ottomar and my aunt may share my inheritance; my proud father would have taken nothing from me, and you--you take me as I am, and lead me to your home for ever. One more look at my paradise! One more kiss, and now farewell! farewell!"

She embraced him fervently, and then would have freed herself, but he held her hand fast.

"It is impossible, Elsa; it is already growing dark up here, and in half an hour below it will be night. You cannot be certain of keeping to the road, which can no longer be distinguished from the moor, and that is full of deep bogs. It is really impossible, Elsa."

"It must be possible. I should despise myself if I kept you back from your duty; and how could you continue to love me, and not to look upon your love as a burden, if I did so? How do you know that you may not be wanted at the shortest notice? At this moment possibly the men may be standing helpless, and looking out for their leader. Reinhold, by your love! am I right or not?"

"You are indeed right, but----"

"No 'but,' my darling, we must part." They were as they spoke hastening hand-in-hand along the path by which Elsa had before reached the top, and now stood on the cross way which led on one side to the Warnow moor, and on the other to Wissow.

"Only to the foot. Till I know you are on the right path," said Reinhold.

"Not a step farther. Hark! What is that?"

He had also noticed it already--a sound as of horses' feet, galloping on the hard turf behind the slope of the hill which rose before them and concealed from them any farther view of the other and more precipitous side. The next moment a rider appeared in sight over the hill. He had now reached the top, and pulling up his horse, rose in his saddle and appeared to be looking round him.

"It is the Count," said Elsa.

A deep glow came into her face. "You must accompany me a little way now," she said, drawing a deep breath. "Come."

She took his arm. At that moment the Count, who had been looking above them, looked down, and saw the pair. He put spurs to his horse, and galloping down the slope, was with them in a trice. He had no doubt recognised Reinhold at once, for when he checked his horse and took off his hat, his countenance did not show the slightest trace of wonder or astonishment. He seemed in fact not to see Reinhold, as if he had met Elsa alone.

"This is good luck indeed. How delighted your aunt will be. She is waiting there; the carriage could not come any farther."

He pointed with the handle of his whip over the slope of the hill.

"I assure you it is so, though you seem so astonished. Your aunt was very uneasy at your long absence--inquired in the neighbourhood--learnt from Pölitz that you had come here--a strange fancy, by Jove!--your aunt was determined to come herself--I had just returned with Fräulein von Wallbach, and begged to escort her--was beginning to despair. Awfully lucky! May I be allowed to accompany you to the carriage? it is not a hundred yards off."

He had swung himself from his saddle, and held his horse by the bridle.

Reinhold looked straight into Elsa's eyes. She understood and answered the look.

"We are much obliged to you, Count Golm," he said, "but we will not trespass on your kindness one instant longer than is necessary. I will myself conduct my betrothed to the Baroness."

"Ah!" said the Count.

He had pictured to himself beforehand the terrible embarrassment which, in his opinion, the two culprits would feel on becoming aware of his presence, and the shock that the Baroness would experience if he could tell her in what company he had had the happiness of meeting her niece. He took it for granted that on his arrival the fellow would take himself off to Wissow, with some embarrassed words of explanation. And now he could not believe his ears, and he could hardly trust his eyes, as Elsa and this fellow, turning their backs upon him, walked off arm-in-arm, as if he