A moderator lamp, upheld by a bronze Atlas, was suddenly flashed up, and Ernestine stood before Charlie Pierrepont. She had let all her hair down, probably previous to coiling it up for the night, and now its silky masses floated over her shoulders far below her waist, and out of their darkness, her pale, minute, and delicately cut face came with strong distinctness in the subdued light of the lamp. How lovely she looked just then; her form, though _mignonne_, round and full. She threw her arms round Charlie, and putting her head on his shoulder, in a way she had like a petted love-bird, placed her sweet face amid the masses of her hair on his neck, and her lover gazed at her for some seconds ere he seated her by his side, with a kind of adoration, for she was in all the pride of her beauty and purity; and, as a writer says, with truth, 'There is nothing in the universe so exquisite, so fascinating, so irresistibly alluring, as a young girl! A girl in the first dawn of earliest womanhood, fresh and fragrant as a flower, and, alas! as fragile, for that bloom of youth is as evanescent as it is lovely, and its loss is never, to my mind, compensated by any maturer charm. Let who will inhale the perfume of the opening rose, but the sweet shy mystery of the folded bud for me!' And some such thoughts ran through the mind of Charlie as he gazed upon her. In the perfect confidence of this love, they did not at first speak of this sudden suitor (who had come like a thunder-cloud into their sunny summer sky), for rival he could scarcely be deemed by Charlie; but they referred to the last time they had been happy together in each other's society. Oh, _so_ happy! and but two days ago! They had ridden to Stolberg, after losing Heinrich and Herminia together in the wood (rather a common occurrence, by the way, when these four went out on excursions), and had taken shelter from a storm of rain in a village church, where a marriage ceremony had been performed before them, and they now recurred to this little episode. 'How sweetly pretty the bride looked!' said Charlie, playing with her rippling hair. 'And how happy the bridegroom!' she added, pulling Charlie's moustache, in her momentary joy, forgetful of the tears she had been shedding. 'How I envied them, Ernestine! Will our day ever come?' 'We can but hope.' 'And if it never comes?' 'I shall die--I shall die faithful to you, Carl. Faithful in life and in death!' said Ernestine, with passionate energy. 'You say this so often that you alarm me,' said Charlie, with great tenderness of tone. 'How can my promises of faith alarm you?' 'Nay. It is these references to death.' Her eyes were tender, dreamy, and sad, yet full of love, as they looked into his. After a pause, he said, 'I, Ernestine, am more in danger of death and peril than you, dearest.'