"Do not be such a bigoted Catholic to-day, Severinus," said Cornelia, gazing at him beseechingly. "All the joy of this earthly life is stirring in my heart, and must I constantly argue with you about the best means of reaching heaven? Oh, let me enjoy with a thankful soul the rich abundance of happiness my Creator has poured out for me! Do not cast the black shadow of your religious harshness over the sunny picture of this day. Severinus, my dear, gloomy friend, be mild and gentle. Look at me as kindly as you used to do. See, see, there is the glimmer of a smile upon your face! Ah, it has already vanished again! What a pity! Ever since the news of Ottmar's going over to the liberal party brought me back to Germany, and filled me with the blissful certainty of being reunited to him, you have become a different person. When I lost him, I gained you; and now that I am to gain him once more, I lose you. When I felt miserable and lonely, you were as loving and patient as a father; but since I have been animated with new hope, you have retired coldly into yourself, and you have hidden yourself behind the walls of your work of conversion." "My task, Cornelia, is only to aid the afflicted; the happy do not need me." Severinus looked silently up towards heaven. His eyes were bloodshot; his wasted face, bronzed by the Italian sun, glowed with fervor. Cornelia laid her clasped hands compassionately and beseechingly upon his breast. "Severinus, you are suffering; I see it." For a moment he pressed her hands closely to his throbbing heart, then hurled them away, with an expression of horror, and hurried off. Cornelia looked after him in astonishment, but did not try to follow, for she felt that the emotion which moved him was a secret she ought not to fathom. She turned towards the rural inn where she lodged, and now observed for the first time that one of the artists who came to the island to sketch was seated an a little hillock not far from the spot where she had been pacing with Severinus, and recognized him as the very person to whose talent she owed her first picture of Ottmar. She approached, and he hastily concealed in his portfolio the paper upon which he had been working. "You only arrived yesterday evening, and are already sketching the scenery, Herr A----. Is it not a little hasty?" "I have already made myself familiar with all its details," said A----, with evident embarrassment. "I am very much hurried, because I would like to finish the picture in time for the exhibition at H----." "Then I will not detain you, but wish you all possible success. Au revoir, Herr A----." "I will do myself the honor of waiting upon you at a later hour, Fräulein Erwing," said A----, bowing respectfully; and, as Cornelia turned away, he drew out his sketch, and eagerly continued his work.