For the first time in many years _Heinrich_ entered a churchyard alone; he had formerly only visited them as a part of the throng which attended some aristocratic funeral; and in spite of the haste with which he moved along the paths, the holiness of the spot, the silence of the dead, unconsciously allayed the excitement of his soul, and made his mood grave and gentle. With downcast eyes he wandered through the long rows of graves adorned with headstones and flowers; he was well aware that it was useless to seek Cornelia here, and hastened on by the churchyard wall to where the lonely, simple crosses of the criminals rose above the mounds. In one corner he at last perceived among the neglected graves a group of trees and bushes, surrounded by a hedge of wild roses. The cool breath of the spring evening rustled through the leaves, and amid the branches the nightingales softly trilled their songs. _Heinrich_ paused and gazed through the shrubbery. Upon a hillock, overgrown with lilies of the valley and ivy, sat Cornelia her head rested on her hand, and her bosom rose and fell slowly, as if burdened with the weight of sorrowful thought. Just at that moment _Heinrich_ emerged from the shrubbery. She sprang up with a startled cry and gazed at him as if in a dream; then a deep flush overspread her face, her limbs refused to support her, and, without a word, she sank fainting upon the mound. "Cornelia!" exclaimed _Heinrich_, and there was the promise of inexpressible happiness in the tone, as he threw himself at her feet and laid his clasped hands in her lap. They gazed at each other long and silently. "At last! ah, at last!" he murmured, in delight. "At last!" repeated Cornelia, with a heavy sigh; then she gently clasped his hands in hers, held them more and more firmly, and asked, with an expression of unspeakable delight, "Ottmar, is it you?" Tears dimmed her eyes, her voice trembled, and she averted her face to conceal her emotion. "Cornelia, my life, my soul!" exclaimed _Henri_, who, after a violent struggle, supplanted _Heinrich_. "Grieve no more; love has arisen. You wished to conjure up the shade of the dead man to be an ally against my image in your heart, and instead he sends me to you. Your place is not by this grave, but here, here, on my warm breast! here throbs the heart in which your life is rooted; here breathes the love you vainly sought under moss and stones. Rise, come away; do not press your beautiful face upon the damp grass. He who sleeps below does not feel; but I do, and long for you so ardently, so inexpressibly! You do not answer; what is the cause of your struggle? Do you find it so difficult to choose between this tomb and me? Come, come, be truthful. I know you love me; say so, say so, Cornelia!"