Gretchen caressed her lovingly, and smiled,--how could she smile at this moment? "Ah, Ernestine, how could you reject Dr. Möllner when he first wooed you? I should have thought you would have given your heart to him upon the spot. I only hope you may never know what you threw away."
"Gretchen," said Ernestine gravely, "it is long since I have learned what I then rejected. The pride with which I turned away from him, refusing to sacrifice my foolish ambition to make myself a name, has been severely punished. As in our dreams we are sometimes borne aloft as upon wings into immeasurable space, until our balance is lost and we fall headlong, awaking with the shock, so my ambition carried me to heights where I could not sustain myself. I fell, but strong and tender arms were held out to receive me, and I awoke to find myself embraced by them instead of prostrate in a frightful abyss. Then, in the confusion of my wakening, I thought those sustaining arms were fetters. I thrust them from me, and now I lie crushed and broken on the ground." She crossed her arms upon the table, and bowed her head on them.
Gently Gretchen took the book from the basket, and, opening it where she saw that Johannes had put a mark, she silently pushed it towards Ernestine, who raised her head at the touch, and at first looked absently at the pages before her, then gazed and gazed as if utterly unable to comprehend what she saw. It was her dear old book,--there was the swan that she had burned. "Heavens!" she cried, between laughter and tears, "can this be real? My swan! My swan! Who brought me this? Oh, dreams of my childhood, who has restored you to me?"
And she knelt beside the table, and laid her cheek upon the book. Before her closed eyes it was night again. Before her upon the table burned the dim night-lamp, and her father lay asleep close at hand. She read the story of the Ugly Duckling, and above her softly rustled the snowy plumage of the swan, and among her curls trembled the leaves of the oak whence the handsome boy had snatched her from mortal peril. And then her father awoke, and sent her up to her uncle. There stood the telescope, through which she was again gazing, thirsting for a peace which her young heart presaged without the power to grasp,--filled with longing to be borne up--up to those starry worlds gliding so silently through space. She knew now what she had so desired,--Love! But she searched for it among those worlds in vain. Suddenly she was standing upon the hill in the garden of her castle, and above her hovered the faithful little mermaid, in the shape of a sunset cloud, while a deep, tender voice whispered, "Poor swan!" Here, here was what she sought.
"Poor swan!" The words sounded distinctly now in her ears, not in her dreaming fancy only. She opened her eyes, and started up with a low cry, and would have fled,--fled to the uttermost ends of the earth,--but she could not stir from the spot. She tottered and would have fallen, but two strong arms upheld her, and for a moment she lost all consciousness. This was rest indeed.
"Shall I get some water?" asked Gretchen.
"Oh, no. Do not grudge me one moment," said Johannes, clasping the lifeless form to his heart "She will recoil from me as soon as she comes to herself."
"You should not have spoken to her so suddenly," said Gretchen.
Ernestine opened her eyes, looked up and around for a moment in bewilderment, and then extricated herself instantly from the arms in which she had found such rest.
"Did I not know her well?" Johannes said, by a glance, to Gretchen.