"How calmly you speak, and yet your words are the death-warrant of my hopes!" exclaimed Gunther, despairingly.
"I speak calmly, because I have long since resolved never to be the wife of another man," replied Rachel. "If I must choose between father and lover, I follow you. If my father drives me from his home, then, Gunther, I will come and seek shelter upon your faithful heart."
"And you shall find it there, my own one!—I dare not call you, beloved, but oh! I await with longing the hour of your coming—the hour when, of your own free will, your little hand shall be laid in mine, to journey with me from earth to heaven! Adieu, sweetest. I go, but my soul remains behind."
"And mine goes with you," replied Rachel. He clasped her in his arms and over and over again imprinted his passionate kisses upon her willing lips.
"To-morrow," whispered she. "Here is the key of the gate. I shall be in the pavilion."
Again he turned to kiss her, and so they parted. Rachel watched his tall, graceful figure until it was hidden by the trees, then she clasped her hands in prayer:
"O God, bless and protect our love! Shelter us from evil, but if it must come, grant me strength to bear it!"
Slowly and thoughtfully she returned to the house. Her heart was so filled with thoughts of her lover, that she did not see the stirring of the blind, through which her father's dark, angry eyes had witnessed their meeting. It was not until she had entered her room that she awakened from her dream of bliss. Its splendor recalled her senses, and with a sob she exclaimed:
"Why am I not a beggar, or a poor Christian child? Any thing—any thing that would make me free to be his wife!—"
She ceased, for she heard her father's voice. Yes, it was indeed he! How came he to be at home so soon? His hand was upon the door, and now he spoke to her.