"Be composed, my darling, be composed," said Trude, in soothing tones; "if you excite yourself so much, it will be injurious. Some one knocks again, and--" "Trude, be merciful!" cried Marie. "Go and open the door. Do not let me wait; I believe I have but a little while longer to live, and I cannot wait! Go!" Trude had hurried to the door, and opened it. She started, waved her hand, closed the door again, and turned to Marie, who stood erect, in breathless suspense. "Marie," said she, vainly endeavoring to speak with composure, "there certainly is some one at the door, who desires to speak with me, but it is no stranger; perhaps he wishes to order some flowers. I will go and ask him." She was about to open the door again, but Marie ran forward and held her back. "You are deceiving me, Trude. You well know who it is, and I know too. My heart tells me it is he! Philip! my Philip! Come to me, Philip!" "Marie!" cried a loud, manly voice from the outside. The door was hastily thrown open; and he rushed in, with extended arms. "Marie! where are you, Marie!" She uttered a loud, piercing cry of joy, and flew to her lover's heart. "My Philip! My beloved! God bless you for having come!" "My Marie, my darling!" murmured he, passionately. "God bless you for having called me!" CHAPTER III. GRIM DEATH. They held each other firmly embraced, heart to heart. All sorrow and sadness were forgotten; they were oblivious of the whole world, and of all that was going on around them. They did not see old Trude standing near by, with folded hands, her face radiant with delight; they did not see her follow Mr. Ebenstreit, who had glided noiselessly out of the room. They did not hear the door creak on its hinges, as she closed it behind her, and left them alone and unobserved in the silent chamber. And, though the two had remained, though hundreds and hundreds of eyes had been fastened on them inquiringly, what would they have cared? They would, nevertheless, have still been alone with love, with happiness, and with the joy of reunion. Her head still rested on his breast; he still pressed her to his heart. "Marie, the dream of my whole life is now fulfilled; I hold you in my arms, you are mine! The restless wanderer has at last crossed the threshold of the promised land, and love and peace bid him welcome." "Yes, my Philip," she murmured, softly, "love and peace bid him welcome. Pain has left us for evermore, and we shall be happy!" "Yes, happy, Marie! Look up, darling, that I may read love in your dear eyes!" With his hand he attempted to raise her head, but she only pressed it the more firmly to his breast. "No, Philip, let my head still rest on your bosom; let me dream on for a little while." "Marie, I have yearned to see these dear eyes for two long years; look up, my darling!"