The stream that ran past the house was frozen over, but in the silence of the night, the gurgling of the water was heard, under the covering of ice. The thoughts of the wakeful woman followed the current of the brook, in its distant flow, when, after traversing pathless valleys and deep ravines, its course was checked by the forest mill; the waters rushing, and foaming, and revolving over the mill wheels, just as the thoughts of this watchful mother revolved dizzily on her sorrows at dead of night. For within that mill dwells the dreaded object on whom the eyes of Adam's parents were fixed. The forest miller's Tony had always been thought a good-hearted, excellent girl, and yet now she seemed so cruel:--what has the forest miller's daughter Tony to do with you? you have no claim on her--but on him? on Adam? The sleepless girl clenched her hands convulsively; she felt a stab in her heart, and said, in a voice of anguish, "Can he ever be faithless to me? No, he could not; but if he dared to desert me, I would not suffer it; I would go to church with my little Joseph--but no--I would not take him with me--I would go alone, and call out Adam's name. I could not endure it, and then we should see if the clergyman would marry them." The brook once more flows tranquilly through a quiet meadow; on its banks some oaks and beeches droop their branches; but the hills are covered thickly with lofty pines; the stream rushes again over rocks into deep ravines: now it runs rapidly along. There lies the boundary stone. "Now we are at home," had Adam once said, and yet this stone is fully two miles from the Roettmannshof. In the Otterzwanger wood belonging to it, lies a peaceful nook beside the river, overshadowed by a spreading beech. The girl passes her cold hand over her feverish cheek. There, under that leafy beech, she had first been noticed by Adam. No one in the world would have believed that he could be so merry and talkative, so kind and so gentle. It was a lovely summer's day: on the previous evening there had been a violent storm; the thunder and lightning had been so tremendous, that it seemed as if no tree in the forest could escape scatheless. Just so is it here below: without in the woods, and within in the houses, noise, strife, and wrangling, till even murder seems not improbable; and yet the very next day everything is as peaceful as before. It is indeed a charming summer morning that we allude to; streams are flowing in their various channels with a merry noise, hurrying on their course, as if knowing that they have only a day to live, and are to be seen no more on the morrow. The birds are singing cheerfully, and the girl washing at the brook can't help doing the same; she must sing also, and why not? She is still quite young, and free from care. She knows a variety of songs; she learned them from her father, who was once the best and sweetest singer in the village. Some men are descending the stream, as there is now water