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 She appeared embarrassed, and for some time hesitated to reply; but as I still continued to press her, with a downcast look she said, “I observed the venerable man was not altogether prepossessed in your favour, and I, therefore, entreated him not to feel displeased with you, and insisted upon his informing you, where I was, should he meet with you, and also upon his writing to inform me, whether he had spoken with you.”

Scarcely was she able to give utterance to the last few words; a burning crimson overspread her whole countenance, which appeared to me as the aurora of all my hopes and happiness. I was, as it were, standing upon the pinnacle of my most ardent wishes.

“And has the hermit written?” I asked, as I pressed her hand to my palpitating heart.

She silently nodded with her sweet Madonna head, in the affirmative.

“And did he write all? Every thing?”

The countess replied to this at length, by raising her eyes towards me with an indescribable expression of sweetness, in which the softest confusion was mingled. I threw myself at the feet of the angel with a feeling of the highest delight.

“The year, the term fixed by the hermit, has at length expired,” I said. “During this period you, and you alone, my adorable Liesli, have lived in my heart—it is now for you to decide; let me then know my fate.”

She was, however, only able to reply by tears of tenderness; she entreated me to rise, and she then continued, seriously and solemnly:—

“My dearly beloved friend, you are the first and only being for whom my heart has pleaded; you swore love and fidelity to me when I was poor, and upon you I will rely; in you I will confide. It was in the little chapel of Shwytz, and whilst engaged in prayer, that I first beheld you: at the grave of my dear, unhappy mother, I first spoke with you. From that time the silent mountain became dearer to me—then it was