"MY DARLING,—I cannot be with you till to-morrow. I laughed at your fears last evening, but nevertheless my little girl was right, as she always is. This morning I found myself suffering, and only a day in the open air and a wild ride on horseback have made me myself again. I looked forward to seeing you this evening, but an old fellow-student of Leipsic, who is passing through Strasburg to-day, has unexpectedly turned up at my lodgings, and, of course, is with me for the night I must find patience till to-morrow. Shall we not meet to-night in our dreams? I believe it, for my heart is always with you. Sleep well, and believe in the love of your own
"Goethe."
The reaction came, but it was not one of joy. She let the note slip from her fingers, and, covering her face with her hands, burst into tears.
CHAPTER XIV
A STRANGE INTERVIEW
Early on the following morning Alide left the house alone. Her grave, preoccupied air, her firm, self-confident carriage, no less than her bourgeois attire, were sufficient protection for her in the city streets. She directed her steps towards the Cathedral, walking as securely and fearlessly as though she were in the meadows at home. She was sick at heart, faint and terrified at the shadow which she foresaw about to fall upon her life, and she had need of solemn meditation and prayer. It was not the hour of service, but the organ was playing, and there were a few worshipers scattered among the aisles. Not far from the entrance knelt a woman in mourning, her face buried in her hands, and her form occasionally convulsed by stifled sobs. Alide could not fail to see her, and a sharp pang of pity smote her heart; but the stranger's grief was sacred, and at that moment beyond her compassion, and, averting her eyes, she glanced up at the altar, bowed her head meekly, folded her hands upon her breast, and sank down upon her knees.
What a throng of powerful emotions filled her heart to bursting and sent the hot tears streaming from her eyes! Could that terrible nightmare be the end of her beautiful dream? With all her might she strove to put the evil thought away from her; she denied it utterly, she tried to stifle it by directing her mind to the contemplation of things holy and eternal. This was the source whence she had never yet failed to draw serenity and courage, and to-day again she succeeded insomuch that when she rose to leave the Minster she was once more at peace. As she walked slowly down the long aisle, she was startled by seeing that the mourner whom she had remarked on entering had fallen from her kneeling posture and was lying motionless with her face downward. She advanced towards her and touched her gently on the shoulder. The woman did not move. "Mein Gott! if she be dead!" thought Alide, in affright, and looked around for help; but there was nobody near, and she did not dare to profane the sacred quiet of the place by a cry or a call. She stooped over the prostrate figure, disencumbered the head from the heavy folds of the veil, and with an effort upraised the face. It was that of a woman scarcely older than herself, of a strange, severe beauty, and its deathly pallor was heightened by the intense blackness of the thick masses of hair that waved over the forehead.
"Poor thing! but it is only a faint," said Alide to herself, as she perceived the slight rise and fall of the woman's chest; and, gently leaning the passive form against a column, she hastened away to beg the assistance of the sacristan. With his aid she gradually succeeded in restoring life to the sick woman, who stirred, opened her closely-locked lips, and raised her large, dark eyes with a bewildered expression. Alide spoke to her, and offered her some water to drink.
"You have not been well, my friend," said she: "are you strong enough now to let us help you out of the church, where you can breathe some fresh air?"
The woman looked at her with a grateful expression, but did not answer; she drank the water which Alide held out to her, and then said, in a low voice, as if she did not expect to be understood, "Je ne comprends pas," and made an effort to rise to her feet.
"Ah, she is a foreigner," grumbled the sacristan. "What is to be done, Fräulein?"
"That is nothing; I will make her understand," replied Alide; and she repeated in French what she had already said. She herself, as her name betokened, was of French descent, and the pastor had instructed his children in that language, which they spoke with rare sweetness and precision.