Autumn this year had donned the aspect of a late summer. The days, with but few exceptions, were sunny and clear, the air was mild, and the mountains stood revealed in all their rarest beauty.

The inmates of the Nordheim villa had prolonged their stay, which had been at first arranged for only the summer months, into October. They had been induced to do this, first out of consideration for Alice's health, and then in accordance with Erna's wish to spend as long a time as was possible among her beloved mountains. Since she had been betrothed to Waltenberg her position in the household had undergone a change; Frau von Lasberg no longer permitted herself to find fault with her, and the president was always ready to forestall his niece's wishes. Waltenberg himself, who disliked a city life with its conventionalities and restraints, was glad to be rid of it, and the Baroness alone sighed about the 'endless exile,' and comforted herself with the prospect of a winter more than usually gay. Now that Erna was also betrothed and that Elmhorst would be in the capital during the winter months, after his labours as engineer among the mountains were at an end, the Nordheim mansion would surely justify its reputation. There would doubtless be a series of entertainments in honour of the young couples, and Frau von Lasberg revelled in the contemplation of the prominent part it would be hers to play.

Erna and Alice were sitting on the veranda of the villa, and the gay chatter heard thence absolutely came from the lips of Alice Nordheim. There was not a vestige of the air of indifference with which she used to speak formerly. The change that had taken place in her bordered on the miraculous: the sickly pallor the weary movements, the fatigued, unsympathetic expression, had all vanished; the cheeks were rosy, the eyes bright. Whether it were owing to the mountain-air which blew here so pure and fresh, or to the treatment of the young physician, the fact was that in a few months the girl had blossomed forth like some flower which, fading and sickly in the shade, expands into tender beauty in the clear, warm sunshine.

"I wonder where Herr Waltenberg is?" she was just saying. "He is usually here before this time."

"Ernst wrote me that he should be rather late today, since he meant to bring us a surprise from Heilborn," Erna replied. She was seated at her drawing, from which she did not look up, nor did she evince the slightest interest in the promised surprise.

"'Tis strange that he should write to you so often, when he sees you every day," remarked Alice, who was quite unused to such attentions from her own lover. "And then he fairly overwhelms you with flowers, for which, it seems to me, you are not half grateful enough."

"I am afraid that is Ernst's own fault," was the quiet reply. "He spoils me, and I am too ready to be spoiled."

"Yes, there is something exaggerated in his manner of wooing," Alice interposed. "His love seems to me like a fire, which burns rather than illumines."

"His is an unusual nature," said Erna. "He must not be judged by the standard we apply to others. Believe me, Alice, much, nay, everything, can be endured in the consciousness that one is supremely and ardently beloved."

She laid down her pencil and looked dreamily abroad into space. It sounded odd, the word 'endured,' and its significance was not softened by so much as the shadow of a smile. Indeed, the expression of gravity was deepened in the young girl's face, and in her eyes there was an indescribable something which assuredly was not happiness.

In the short pause that ensued, the noise of carriage-wheels became audible, and some vehicle drew up in front of the house. Erna shivered slightly; she knew who was at hand, although from where she sat the road could not be seen. She slowly closed her sketchbook and arose, but before she could leave the veranda, a young creature came flying out of the drawing-room and clasped her in an enthusiastic embrace, after which she turned just as eagerly to Alice.

"Why, Molly, is this you?" both girls exclaimed, in a breath.

It was in fact Frau Gersdorf, rosy, merry, and saucy as ever, and behind her appeared Ernst Waltenberg, evidently delighted with the success of his surprise.

"Yes, it is really I," the new-comer began. "Albert had a tiresome, never-ending suit to attend to in Heilborn, and of course I came with him. The poor fellow's hard work must be made as tolerable as possible for him, so I always go with him upon these expeditions. I verily believe that if he should take it into his head to climb Mount Blanc, or the Himalayas, I should scramble up after him. Thank God, there are no cases to try up there, so there is no chance of his undertaking the ascents. And how are you all here? You have absolutely vanished from the capital. But there's no need to ask; Alice looks fresh as a rose, and Erna is planning her wedding-tour, I hear. Where is it to be? To the South Sea or the North Pole? I should advise the South Sea,--the climate is milder."

She paused to take breath, and without waiting for a reply threw herself into an arm-chair and declared that she was too tired to say a single word.

After the first exchange of greetings Ernst approached his betrothed and handed her a bouquet of costly foreign flowers, rich in colour and exhaling an overpowering fragrance.

"Did I not keep my promise?" he said, pointing to Molly. "I planned this surprise with Albert yesterday afternoon, knowing I should surely be welcome so accompanied."

"But that you always are," said Erna, taking the flowers from him with thanks.

"Always?" he repeated. "Really always? Some times I doubt it."

"Do not say that, Ernst."

His eyes, filled with a passionate entreaty, met her reproachful glance, as together they walked down the veranda steps into the garden. "Are you a little glad when I come?" he went on, in a low tone. "I sometimes imagine you dread my approach and shrink from my embrace, and more than once I have fancied I could detect a sigh of relief when I left you."

"Yes, you watch every look of mine, every breath that I draw, and convert it all into pain, both for yourself and for me," Erna said, gravely. "Your passionate surveillance torments me; how will it be when we are married?"

"Ah, then I shall be calm," he said, with a sigh. "Then I shall know you for my own, my very own; no other will have any right to intrude between us, and then perhaps I may teach you to love me; hitherto I have tried in vain. That you can love I know. You loved--him!"

She hastily withdrew the hand she had left in his: "Ernst, you promised me----"

"Not to speak of that. Yes, I promised, but I did not know how hard it is to fight against a memory, to war with a mere phantom. Would that it were flesh and blood, that I might battle with it to the death!"

His eyes flashed with the mortal hatred that had gleamed in them when he had learned that Erna had loved another. She turned pale, as she laid her hand soothingly upon his arm.

"Ernst," she said, gently, "why torment yourself thus perpetually? You suffer terribly; I see it, and bitterly do I repent my confession. Have I no power to make you calmer and happier?"

Her tone disarmed him at once; he took her hand, and kissed it eagerly: "Your power over me is boundless when you look and speak thus. Forgive me for paining you; indeed it shall not happen again."

The promise had been made a hundred times before, and broken as often. Erna smiled, but she was still pale as they walked back to the house.

"A scene from Othello seems to be going on there," said Molly, who, notwithstanding her great fatigue, had been chattering incessantly, and observing the lovers the while. "Ernst Waltenberg is perilously like that monster of a Moor. I believe he would make nothing of a murder if his jealousy were excited. It is to be hoped that Erna will put a little common sense into him when they are married; there is very little of it in his love for her at present. I told him about all sorts of interesting things that are going on in the capital, as we were driving over, but he never listened to one of them; he kept his eyes fixed upon the villa, and rushed out of the barouche the instant it stopped before the door. Ah! now he is kissing her hand and humbly begging her pardon. Albert never did that, even while we were betrothed; on the contrary, I was always the one to be forgiven! Albert is not sentimentally inclined, nor is your betrothed, Alice. Is your engineer not coming to-day?"

"I hardly think he will be here," said Alice, allowed for the first time to interpose a word. "Wolfgang has so much to do; he could only be here for a few moments yesterday. The responsibilities of his position are very great."

It sounded composed, too much so for a betrothed maiden who could not but feel herself neglected. Alice knew nothing as yet of what had taken place between her father and her lover a week before in the capital. Wolfgang had refrained from mentioning it even to his friend Reinsfeld; he wished to leave the president, whose arrival was shortly expected, to contrive a pretext for the final rupture. Meanwhile, he saw Alice as seldom as possible, availing himself of the plea of work, which had sufficed him hitherto.

Frau von Lasberg now made her appearance on the veranda, and greeted Molly with great dignity and little cordiality. The young Frau was to remain until the next day, when her husband was to call for her, and they were to pay a visit at Benno's in Oberstein. Molly played the part of a hurricane in the quiet and elegant household at the villa; from the moment of her arrival all formality was scattered to the winds. Her clear, silvery laughter was heard everywhere; she chatted with Alice, she teased Erna, she disputed with Waltenberg about Oriental customs of which she knew absolutely nothing, provoking beyond measure the old Baroness, and withal fairly beaming with happiness and merriment.

Thus the day wore on to noon, and the golden autumn sunlight tempted all into the open air. Waltenberg proposed a walk up one of the neighbouring heights, and all assented; even Alice, who a few months previously had been debarred from all such enjoyments, was ready to join the party, while Frau von Lasberg was, of course, obliged to remain at home. The little company walked leisurely up the gradual ascent, through the sunlit, fragrant forest, until they reached the foot of a rocky cliff, where the path became steep and stony.

"You must stop here, Alice," said Erna. "The last part of the way is too steep and rough; you must be careful not to overtask your strength. Do you think you are equal to it, Molly?"

"I am equal to anything," declared Molly, half offended at the question. "Do you suppose that Herr Waltenberg and yourself are the only mountaineers? I can outclimb either of you."

Waltenberg smiled rather derisively at this audacious statement, casting a significant glance the while at the speaker's little high-heeled boots. "There is no danger in this ascent," he said: "the path is made quite easy with steps and hand-rails here and there. But then an accident is always possible, as my secretary found to his cost on the Vulture Cliff. He was lucky to escape with only a sprained ankle."

"Oh, that immensely tall Herr Gronau!" exclaimed Molly. "What has become of him? I did not catch even a glimpse of him in Heilborn."

"He asked for leave of absence for a few weeks, but I am now expecting him back again," replied Ernst, who had, in fact, been rather puzzled by Veit's long absence. He knew that his secretary had no relatives left in Germany, and he could not understand his sudden journey. Gronau had not even told him where he was going.

Alice agreed to await the return of the party; and whilst the others pursued their way to the summit of the height, she seated herself on a mossy bit of rock at the foot of the ascent. The spot was a peaceful little nook in the forest depths which no autumnal blast seemed as yet to have touched. The dark pines and the soft moss had preserved their fresh green, and the noonday sun had dispelled the mists which were so apt to linger here and there among the trees. It was as sunny and warm as on a day in spring.

Alice had been sitting alone about ten minutes, when she perceived at a little distance the familiar figure of Dr. Reinsfeld striding along among the trees. He was coming from a patient at one of the mountain-cottages, and was so lost in thought that he emerged upon the little clearing without perceiving the young girl until she called to him: "Herr Doctor, are you really going to hurry past without even a look for your patient?"

Benno started at the sound of her voice, and paused in surprise: "You here, FrÄulein Nordheim, and entirely alone?"

"Oh, I am not so unprotected as you suppose. Herr Waltenberg, with Erna and Molly, has just left me. I only stayed behind----"

"Because you are tired?" was the anxious question.

She shook her head, smiling: "Oh, no; I only wanted to husband my strength for the walk back, in accordance with your orders. You see how obedient I am."

She moved slightly aside, and seemed to expect that the doctor would take his seat beside her. He hesitated for a few seconds, and then accepted her unspoken invitation, and sat down upon the mossy resting-place. They were no longer strangers to each other; in the last few months they had seen and talked with each other almost daily.

Alice went on conversing cheerfully. There was an innocent delight in her gaiety, the delight of a freshly-aroused vitality asserting itself, still half timidly, after years of depressing ill health. No one could be more childlike and simple-minded than this young heiress, who was so little adapted to fill the position assigned her by her father's millions. Here, resting upon her mossy seat, free from all the splendour and pomp which fatigued her, with the golden sunlight playing upon the soft blond hair and the delicately-tinted face, there was an indescribable refinement and charm in her appearance.

The young physician, on the other hand, was unusually grave and silent; he forced himself to smile and to reply gaily now and then, but the effort he made was perceptible. Alice observed it at last, and she too became more silent, until after a long pause, which Reinsfeld made no attempt to interrupt, she asked, "Herr Doctor, what is the matter?"

"With me?" Benno started. "Oh, nothing,--nothing at all."

"I am afraid that is not quite true. You looked very grave and sad as you were striding along so hurriedly, and it is not the first time I have seen you so. For weeks I have fancied that something has been depressing and troubling you, although you take great pains to conceal it. Will you not tell me what it is?"

The girl's voice was so entreatingly sweet, and her brown eyes looked with so sympathetic a glance of inquiry into those of the young physician, that it was hard to withstand her, and yet Nordheim's daughter ought to be the last to learn the cause of Reinsfeld's mood. She had indeed seen aright; Benno had been suffering for weeks under the burden of the suspicion which Gronau had implanted in his soul. Nothing indeed had as yet been discovered to confirm it, but Reinsfeld divined that Veit's sudden departure and prolonged absence were connected with some clue which was being followed up. He hastily collected himself, and replied, "I find it hard to leave Oberstein. Fatiguing as my practice has been sometimes, and much as I have longed for a more extended sphere of activity, I feel now how attached I have become to the people whose joys and sorrows I have shared for years, and to the mountains where I have had my home. I leave so much behind me that it is hard to go away."

His eyes were cast down as he spoke the last words, or he would have become aware of the instant change in the girl's face. She turned pale and her look of innocent gaiety vanished, while the wild-flowers that she had plucked on her way up the height dropped upon the moss at her feet. "Is your departure so near at hand?" she asked, gently.

"It is indeed; I am only waiting for my successor to arrive, and he is expected in a week."

"And then you go--forever?"

"Yes,--forever!"

Question and answer sounded sad enough, and a silence ensued. Alice stooped and picked up her scattered flowers, beginning to arrange them mechanically. She knew, of course, of the doctor's acceptance of his new position, but it had not occurred to her that he would leave before her own departure, beyond which her thoughts had not strayed. She had been so happy in the mountains, had resigned herself entirely to the enjoyment of the present, without a thought that it could come to an end, and now she was reminded how near at hand was this end.

"I may go without anxiety," Benno began again. "The health of my district at present leaves nothing to be desired, and you, FrÄulein Nordheim, need me no longer. Only be careful for some time to come, and I think I can guarantee your entire recovery. I am very glad to have been able to keep my promise to my friend and to restore him his betrothed well and happy."

"If indeed it makes much difference to him," Alice said, in a low tone.

Reinsf----eld looked amazed: "FrÄulein Nordheim?"

"Do you imagine, then, that Wolfgang cares for me? I do not think he does."

There was no bitterness in her words; they were only sad, and the eyes which Alice raised to the young physician were as sad.

"You do not believe in Wolfgang's love?" he asked, dismayed. "But why, then, should he have----" He broke off in the middle of his sentence, knowing well enough that love had borne no share in his friend's wooing. He remembered only too distinctly how the young engineer had coldly determined to win for a wife the president's daughter, and the contemptuous shrug with which he had repudiated the idea of sentiment in the affair. It was a speculation,--nothing else.

"I have no fault to find with Wolfgang, none at all," Alice went on. "He is always most attentive, and so anxious about me, but I feel nevertheless how little I am to him, and I can see how his thoughts wander whenever he is with me. Formerly I scarcely perceived this, and if I did perceive it, it did not hurt me. I was always so weary; I had no pleasure in life,--it was one long illness for me. But when health began to relieve me of the oppression that had weighed down soul and body, I saw, and understood. Wolfgang loves his calling, the future to which he aspires, his great work, the Wolkenstein bridge, of which he is so proud. He never will love me!"

Benno for a moment could find no reply to these words, which both startled and amazed him, from the girl whom he had supposed entirely indifferent in this matter, and who now thus clearly defined the true state of affairs.

"Wolf's is not an ardent nature," he said at last, slowly. "With him ambition outweighs sentiment; it was his character as a boy, and it is far more evident in the man."

Alice shook her head: "Herr Gersdorf's nature is cool and calm, and yet how he loves Molly! Awhile ago Ernst Waltenberg cared for nothing save untrammelled freedom, and see how love has transformed him! Frau Lasberg, to be sure, says such sentiment is the merest nonsense which hardly outlives the honey-moon, that there is no such thing as the enduring affection of a romantic girl's imagination, and that a woman, if she is wise and hopes for happiness in marriage, must banish all such ideas from her mind. She may be right, but such wisdom is terribly depressing. Do you share it, Herr Doctor?"

"No!" said Reinsfeld, with so decided an emphasis that Alice looked up at him in surprise and with a sad smile.

"Then we are both dreamers and fools, whom sensible people would despise."

"Thank God that it is so!" Benno broke forth. "Never let 'such sentiment' be snatched from you, FrÄulein Nordheim; it is all that can make life happy or even worth the living. Wolf has always prophesied that I should never come to good, or make myself a fine position in the world. So be it. I do not care! I am happier than he with all his wisdom and his schemes. He takes no real pleasure in anything,--sees nothing anywhere save bare, forlorn reality, transfigured by no ray of inspiration. I have had a hard life. When my parents died I was knocked about the world, with scant favour from any one, and sometimes, as a student, was hard put to it for bread to eat; even now I possess merely the necessaries of life; but I would not exchange lots with my friend for all his brilliant future."

He was carried away by his emotion, and did not perceive how his words accused Wolfgang; nor did Alice appear to take note of it, for she looked up with sparkling eyes at the young physician, wont to be so quiet and calm, who seemed for the moment transfigured. Usually shy and reserved; as is the case with all introspective natures, when once the barrier of reserve was overleaped he forgot that any such had ever existed, and went on, with what was almost passionate ardour, "When the sum of our lives is reckoned up, the gain may after all be mine. I question whether Wolfgang would not give all the results he has achieved for one draught from the fountain which flows inexhaustibly for me. We poor, ridiculed dreamers are, after all, the only happy human beings, for in spite of all experience we can love with all our hearts, can hope, and trust, and have faith in truth and goodness. And whatever of disappointment this world may have in store for us, nothing can deprive us of the belief in something higher. We attain heights to which others cannot soar; wings to reach it are worth all their vaunted worldly wisdom!"

Alice listened in breathless silence to these words, the like of which she had never heard beneath her father's roof, but which nevertheless she comprehended at once with the instinct of a warm young heart thirsting for love and happiness. She did not dream that the consciousness of the man who spoke thus in eager defence of faith in all that is best in humanity was burdened with the knowledge of the bitterest failure in the faith and honour of her own father.

"You are right!" she exclaimed, holding out both hands to him as in gratitude. "This faith is the highest, the only happiness in life, and we will not allow it to be snatched from us."

"The only happiness?" Benno repeated, while, scarcely knowing what he did, he clasped and held fast the hands held out to him. "No, FrÄulein Nordheim, other joys also await you. Wolfgang's is a noble nature in spite of his ambition; in time you will learn to understand each other, and then he will make you truly happy, or he is utterly unworthy of you. I"--here his voice grew slightly unsteady--"I shall often hear from him and of his married life,--we are faithful correspondents,--and sometimes, perhaps, you will allow me to recall myself to your memory."

Alice made no reply; her eyes filled with tears. Unable to conceal the first profound grief in her young life, at Benno's last words she hid her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

For Benno this moment was one of intoxicating delight and of intense pain. Another man might perhaps have forgotten all else in the rapture of the revelation thus made, but for him Alice was sacred as the betrothed of his friend; not for the world would he have uttered one of the thousand expressions of love that rose to his lips. He slowly retreated a few paces, and said, almost inaudibly, "It is well that I am to go to Neuenfeld. I have long known how it was with me!"

Neither of the pair had any idea that they were overheard. Just as the doctor had clasped the young girl's hands in his, the shrubbery at the foot of the rock had parted, and Molly, who had intended in jest to startle Alice by her sudden appearance, noiselessly emerged. Her merry face assumed, however, an expression of extreme surprise upon finding her friend, whom she had supposed alone, in Benno's society, and in such evident agitation.

Among the praiseworthy qualities of Frau Gersdorf might be reckoned intense curiosity. She was instantly eager to know how this interesting interview would terminate. She therefore retreated unperceived, as noiselessly as she had appeared, and, hid among the bushes, overheard all that ensued, until Waltenberg's and Erna's approaching footsteps became audible as they descended the rocky pathway.

Fortunately, the little lady was not lacking in presence of mind, and, moreover, since she had before her own marriage peremptorily claimed Alice's services as guardian angel, she felt called upon now to requite her after the same manner. So she retreated still farther into the shrubbery, and then called out aloud to the approaching couple that she had easily outstripped them. The result was all that could be desired, and when some minutes later the three new-comers reached the mountain-meadow, Alice was sitting as they had left her, and Benno, grave and silent, was standing beside her. Molly was, of course, immensely surprised at finding her cousin Benno, of whom she straightway took possession. She was resolved to extort a confession from him as soon as they should be alone, and from Alice also,--as guardian angel she had a right to their unreserved confidence.

The little party took its way homewards, and Benno was plied by his young relative with questions, to which he replied absently and mechanically, while his eyes sought the slender, delicate figure walking silently beside Erna; he had not waited until to-day to know that she was dearer to him than aught else on earth.