And in fact, as she now climbed higher and higher, a pale streak appeared to her right--the shore of the mainland--and then again the leaden surface of the sea, on which here and there a sail was seen, and at last, immediately beneath her on this side, a white point of dune, which spread gradually like a wedge towards the headland, until it formed a little peninsula, in the centre of which lay a dozen or so of houses of various sizes between the white sands and the brown moor. That was Wissow! That must be Wissow!
And now, as she stood on the point which she had reached by the exertion of all her physical and moral powers, and however lovingly she stretched out her arms, felt that the object of her desires still lay so far off, so utterly beyond her reach--now for the first time she believed that she understood the dumb, terrifying voices of the solitude and loneliness around her, the whispering and rustling of the moor, the wailing spirit-voices in the air. Alone! alone!
Infinite sorrow welled up in her heart, her knees gave way, she sank down upon a stone near the logs, buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears like a helpless, lost child. She did not see that a man, who was leaning against the signal-post behind the logs, watching the sea, startled by the strange sound near him, stepped forward. She did not hear his steps as he hastened towards her over the short turf.
"Elsa!"
She sprang up with a half-stifled cry.
"Elsa!"
And again she cried out--a wild cry of joy, which rang strangely through the stillness, and she lay on his breast, clinging to him like a drowning woman.
"Reinhold! My Reinhold!"
She wept, she laughed, she cried again and again: "Reinhold, my Reinhold!"
Speechless with happiness and astonishment at the sweet surprise, he drew her down to him on the stone on which she had been sitting.