She bowed her thanks in silence. She herself did not know what sealed her lips, but she could not answer at this moment. For the first time the betrothal had been alluded to between them, and the mere mention of it seemed sufficient, for even Waldemar did not add a syllable to his congratulations.
The golden lustre of the western sky had long since faded into a pale, sombre gray; the light evening wind rustled the underbrush and swayed gently the tree-tops now half dismantled of their foliage, which hung in mottled shreds from the branches, or had fallen, leaf by leaf, strewing the forest-floor and the unruffled surface of the lake. Other withered, dying leaves, swayed to and fro by the breeze, seemed sighing a low wail for all that life and beauty which had known its brief hour of bloom and brightness, and was now passing to its grave. Ever deepening shadows wrapt the forest; vapory clouds from the damp meadows, growing denser as they rose, ere long hung in threatening masses above the water. Now, floating in mid-air, appeared a ghostly apparition, stretching out its humid, nebulous arms to these two beings standing on the edge of the lake, as if it would draw them to itself,--anon it dissolved into thousands of phantom forms and pictures, each succeeding the other in endless variation.
No sound was heard save the low, sad, monotone of the winds and the gentle dropping of the leaves; but through the ever-changing mists above the water appeared a sort of fata morgana, the picture of a forest knoll with primeval beeches, and of a heaving sea stretching out to the horizon's verge, the whole illuminated by the golden light of a summer sunset. The sun sank slowly beneath the waters, and amid a flood of radiance rose again the old wonder-city of tradition,--that city which has been the theme of so many a story, the inspiration of so many a song. Fairy-land again opened to mortal gaze, and from the depths was heard a musical chime, the chime of the bells of Vineta, the sunken city beneath the wave.
The fairy vision had not kept its word to these two who had seen it that day upon the beech-holm. They had parted in estrangement and hostility, they met again upon the same footing. The youth had become a man who was passing through life unloving and solitary; the young girl had become a woman blessed with beauty, love, and fortune: but they had never again found what that one hour at the beech-holm had brought them, never until this autumnal evening, when the old vision reappeared before their eyes. And now, as they stood there together, the intervening years vanished, hatred, strife and bitterness were at an end, and nothing remained in their hearts save a deep, inexpressible yearning for a happiness they might never know, a happiness whose first premonitions had come to them with that vision of Vineta--that mirage at sunset.
Waldemar was first to speak. "The atmospheric effects in this North-sea region are very wonderful," he said. "This mirage, this fata morgana which is so often seen here, has given rise to one of the most beautiful of our North-German legends. So clearly defined are the outlines of the city which seemingly rises from the waters, that we cannot wonder at the old traditionary belief in Vineta, a city like the island of Atalantis sunken beneath the waves, and remaining in its pristine splendor at the ocean's depths; but unlike its prototype, our submerged city often revisits the upper air, and appears beautiful as of old to mortal eyes."
"We have seen it twice," said Wanda, "and both times I have fancied I heard the chiming of its bells."
"The reflection of city roofs and spires was real, the sounds were purely imaginary."
"I never heard the legend of Vineta until you told it to me four years ago," observed Wanda. "Since then I find that it has been a favorite theme of our poets."
"Yes, I am aware of that. During these years of study and travel I too have learned something of poetry, and I have in mind several little ballads founded upon this legend."
"Will you not recite one of them?" asked Wanda, eagerly.