_Heinrich_ took her hands and pressed them to his breast. "Dearest, you are my happiness and my salvation! Cornelia, I love you. I would fain breathe forth my life in those few words: 'I love you!" Cornelia felt that tears were dimming her eyes, and tried to conceal them. "Oh, do not be ashamed of these tears! Happy is the human being who can weep. Teach me the lesson too, and you will have accomplished what not even God could do!" "And if I should succeed, _Heinrich_, it would still be only by the help of God, who blessed my efforts. He will let me find means to do so, if he wishes to raise you by my hand. Do not smile. I cannot help calling the power to which you give a thousand titles by the name of God; cannot intentionally fail in my duty to him. I cannot live without this God,--may not deny him. When I was a child he stood beside my bed and I could talk to him. I associated with him all my thoughts of my father; my mother appeared to me beautiful and radiant in his heavenly majesty, I have so often folded my little hands reverently and thought he heard me; and am I now to believe the soulless air wafted my fervent prayer away,--that so much love, so much devotion, was lavished an a phantom? Oh, my childish faith has increased with my growth!--it has somewhere become part of my nature; for if I try to separate from it, a pang passes through my soul, and I feel that some spiritual nerve, the connecting link between God and myself, is wounded." "You are a woman, Cornelia, and it would be wicked to cast a word of doubt into the sanctuary of your pious heart. We have already spoken of this matter once, and you almost made me an enthusiast." "Is it really so?" interrupted Cornelia. "Oh, if you confess that, much is gained, and I shall henceforth work upon your 'enthusiasm'! You know, _Heinrich_, that natures like ours are always set apart from the rest of mankind. Life often becomes unendurable; reverses of fortune may occur which even philosophy can no longer help us to bear, and we can nowhere find a home. Then it is fortunate if we can flee from earth to that wonderland of fancy, our inalienable home. There are sorrows, too, _Heinrich_, which cannot endure the classical training of an empty doctrine, and which, destroying everything in their course, dash wildly over us. Then the soul grasps for some support, and in its agony shrieks for a God; and if there were none, it would create him for itself, that its cry for help might not echo back from an empty void. But such a self-created God gives no comfort, but jeers at you mockingly, like the spectre of your own agony, and melts away before your eyes, while the true God cannot approach to comfort you, for you do not believe in him, and only by faith does he work his miracles." Cornelia paused; for _Heinrich_ was on his knees before her with his face buried in her lap. "If in such an hour I still have you, I need no God!" he exclaimed, fairly beside himself.