GRIM DEATH.
They held each other firmly embraced, heart to heart. All sorrow and sadness were forgotten; they were oblivious of the whole world, and of all that was going on around them. They did not see old Trude standing near by, with folded hands, her face radiant with delight; they did not see her follow Mr. Ebenstreit, who had glided noiselessly out of the room. They did not hear the door creak on its hinges, as she closed it behind her, and left them alone and unobserved in the silent chamber. And, though the two had remained, though hundreds and hundreds of eyes had been fastened on them inquiringly, what would they have cared? They would, nevertheless, have still been alone with love, with happiness, and with the joy of reunion.
Her head still rested on his breast; he still pressed her to his heart. “Marie, the dream of my whole life is now fulfilled; I hold you in my arms, you are mine! The restless wanderer has at last crossed the threshold of the promised land, and love and peace bid him welcome.”
“Yes, my Philip,” she murmured, softly, “love and peace bid him welcome. Pain has left us for evermore, and we shall be happy!”
“Yes, happy, Marie! Look up, darling, that I may read love in your dear eyes!”
With his hand he attempted to raise her head, but she only pressed it the more firmly to his breast.
“No, Philip, let my head still rest on your bosom; let me dream on for a little while.”
“Marie, I have yearned to see these dear eyes for two long years; look up, my darling!”
“Not yet, Philip,” she whispered, entwining her arms more closely around her lover, her countenance still hid in his bosom. “Let me first tell you something, Philip! I have been ill, very ill, and it was thought I would die. If you should find me a little changed, a little pale, my beloved, it will only be because I have not yet quite recovered, but am only steadily improving. Remember this, and do not be alarmed. Look at me! Welcome, welcome, my Philip!”