It was now time to drive home the fold, the sun had set, and Phylax had collected his little army. The old shepherd arose. “And now, my children,” said he, “take leave of one another. It is the last sunset you will see together for many a long day. Swear to each other here, in the presence of God and of his beautiful world, that you will be true to each other, that your love shall never change.”
Charles Henry looked timidly, beseechingly at Anna Sophia, but she would not encounter his gaze.
“We have said all that we had to say,” said she, quietly, “we will therefore not make our parting harder by repeating it.”
“It will make parting much easier to me,” cried Charles Henry, “if you will swear to be true, and always to love me. Though many years may pass, Anna Sophia, before we meet again, I will never cease to love you, never cease to think of you.”
“This will I also do, Charles Henry,” said Anna, solemnly. “My thoughts will be with you daily, hourly; your name will be constantly upon my lips!”
Charles Henry turned pale. He understood the ambiguous meaning of this oath, and it cut him to the heart.
“And now, good-night, Anna Sophia,” said the old shepherd; “to-morrow evening, when your work is done, I will await you here. We will have to love and console each other. Good-night once more!”
“Good-night, dear father,” whispered she, in a voice choked with tears, as she pressed a burning kiss on his brow.
The old man took her in his arms and embraced her tenderly, then whispered:
“To-morrow we will weep together, Anna Sophia.”