Ere she concluded, Ferdinand was by her side, and, raising up the flowers and young branches which Bertha and her mistress had brought thither, he carried them in and laid them down upon the pavement of the hall. Bertha's merry eye was first turned, with a somewhat timid and apprehensive glance, towards the interior of the chamber, and then, with a meaning smile, to Ferdinand's countenance. As soon, however, as the lady had followed her lover in, the discreet damsel closed the door, murmuring to herself--"Well, love's the best charm against evil spirits, after all! Heigho!--I wish I had somebody to love!". By this time, Ferdinand's hand clasped that of Adelaide; but I have noticed before that a strange change had come over the fair girl since their meeting on the preceding day; and that change was more apparent now than ever. All doubt, all timidity seemed to be banished. There was no boldness, it is true, for modest gentleness seemed an inherent part of her nature; but the fear, the anxiety, the hesitation of unconfirmed and perilous love, no longer had any influence over her. When Ferdinand's hand clasped hers, she laid the other upon it, gazing in his eyes with a warm and affectionate light beaming in her own, and saying with a thoughtful, if not absent air, as if the question she put was as much to her own heart as to him,--"You love me, dear Ferdinand,--is it not so? And you will ever love me, and never do aught to grieve me, nor let others grieve me, if you can help it?" "Can you doubt it, beloved?" cried Ferdinand, drawing her to him; "is not my whole heart and being only love for you?" "Nay, I do not doubt it," answered Adelaide; "I will not doubt it.--Yet I have heard tales of men vowing deep vows, and breaking them; of their looking upon woman, and woman's love, but as a flower to be gathered and cast away: but I will not believe it. No, no!--we have known and loved in childhood, and we will love still. I will trust you, dear Ferdinand,--I will trust you; only promise me that if the time should ever come when deep grief and pain menaces your Adelaide, and it is in your power, by any act, to avert it, you will do so, whatever be the consequences." "Can you suppose I would hesitate?" exclaimed Ferdinand, eagerly; "but I do promise, dear one!--I vow by all I hold sacred,--by all that is dearest to me, that you shall never ask me aught that can remove a grief from you, without my doing it at once." "Thank you,--thank you," answered Adelaide, resting her face upon his shoulder, while he kissed her soft cheek; "then I am happy!--then I am all yours! I have longed for this moment to come, Ferdinand, for I wished to say all that might be said; and to tell the truth, it was for this opportunity I undertook so readily the task we have here to perform."