"You must not indulge such gloomy, autumnal fancies. The flowers will bloom again, and with them many a youthful hope in your heart. You will, perhaps, one day want to know whether one whom you love loves you."
Gretchen looked seriously and kindly at him from out her brown eyes.
"If Ernestine only loves me, and----"
"Well, and----?"
"And you, I will ask nothing more."
"Gretchen, do you not believe that I love you?"
"Yes, I think you do," the girl replied frankly.
"By the good God, who sees all hearts, I think so too," cried Hilsborn, clasping the little hand that lay upon his arm more closely to his heart.
They stood still for one moment together in the gathering twilight, and then walked slowly on. It was an unusually mild autumn evening. The crescent of the new moon glimmered, like a gleaming diamond upon dark locks, just above the tall firs that crowned the hill that had been Ernestine's favourite spot. As she looked up, Gretchen's eyes were moist.
"The moon is the sun of the unhappy," she said suddenly. "Hers is the only light that weeping eyes can endure. They must close in the garish rays of the sun, but they can look up to her through their tears. When she reigns in the sky, repose comes to the weary after the day's dull pain. And you, my kind guardian, seem to me like the moon,--you are so calm and still. I shrink from the others, it seems to me they must despise me, but with you I can weep freely, and rest from all my pain."