Marie had listened with so much interest to the history of her cousin, that she quite forgot having ever entertained any ill-will towards her. Besides which, being naturally fond of any thing involved in mystery, she was glad of an opportunity, such as the present, to exercise her wits. She felt all the importance and honour of being a confidant, and consequently determined to spare no pains in serving the lovers in their critical position. After a few moments' thought, she said, "I have it; we'll invite him at once into our garden." "In the garden!" asked Bertha, fearful and incredulous; "and by whom?" "His host, good cousin Dieterich himself shall bring him," answered Marie. "That's a good thought! and he shall not know anything of the plot; leave that alone to me." Though Bertha was strong and determined in matters of importance, she trembled for the result of this rash step. But her bold and cheerful little cousin knew how to combat her scruples and fears. With renewed hope, then, in the success of their scheme for the morrow, and their hearts being restored again to their former mutual confidence, the girls embraced each other with tender affection, and retired to rest. CHAPTER VII. As like a spirit of the air She hangs upon his neck, In falt'ring tones the lovely fair At last essays to speak; "And wilt thou, then, thy true love leave For ever?"--thus the fair Began, when, overcome by grief, Her words are lost in air. SCHUBART. Albert was sitting in his room, in the forenoon of the day after the ball, thoughtful and dejected. He had paid a visit to his friend Breitenstein, from whom he heard little that was consoling to his hopes. A council of war had been assembled early in the morning, and war was irrevocably decided upon. Twelve pages were despatched through the Goecklinger gate to convey the declarations of defiance of the Duke of Bavaria, the nobility, and assembled states, to the Würtembergers at Blaubeuren. This news was speedily spread from mouth to mouth through the streets, and joy at the prospect of marching at last into the field, was visibly depicted on every countenance. To one alone was the announcement a terrible blow. Grief drove him from the circle of the joyous multitude, who adjourned to the wine shops, to celebrate, by loud carousal, the birthday of the war, and to cast lots for the booty of anticipated victory. Ah! his lot was already cast! A bloody field of battle was spread between him and his beloved; she was lost to him for a length of time, perhaps for ever.