'"And though it does not improve his temper, he has become very anxious and importunate."' 'Curse him! I hope the gout may get into his Excellency's stomach.' '"The Count and Countess begin to hint now that as the war will too probably be a protracted one, it was unwise to wait for Heinrich's presence at this odious marriage. How Aunt Adelaide pores over the _Gazettes_--those dreadful _Gazettes_!" And now, Herr Carl, all that follows are little _bon-bons_ for my own perusal.' Innocent Herminia little knew that her aunt watched the war _Gazettes_ with the double hope that Heinrich's name was not in them, and that Charlie's _was_--or might be. Poor Charlie! Her ladyship was to be gratified one day, however. 'What news from Ernestine?' asked Heinrich, when Charlie had finished the perusal of _his_ letter; 'I feel as anxious about these girls at Frankenburg, as if I was Rip Van Winkle after his long snooze in the Sleepy Hollow.' But Charlie made no reply; he sat with the letter in his hand, and lost in thought. 'What is the matter, my friend?' asked Heinrich. 'There is something more in your letter than there is in mine?' 'There is, indeed!' replied Charlie, in a strange voice, as he drained his glass. 'Good news?' 'No, Heinrich.' 'Bad news, then?' 'No, thank Heaven!' replied Charlie fervently. 'What, then, agitates you?' 'That which I cannot tell you. That which you cannot understand.' 'Carl!' exclaimed Heinrich. 'Pardon me--another time, and I may tell you. Oh, Heinrich, your sister, Ernestine, is indeed the world's one woman to me!' he exclaimed, with deep emotion; and, heedless of Schönforst and the rest, he rose from the table, walked into his tent, and threw himself on the pallet which was his couch, to re-peruse the letter of his betrothed. The following was the passage at the end of her letter which caused him so much thought and bewilderment: 'Oh, Carl! Carl! what is separation but a living death--a blank in life--a place vacant?' ('How prone the girl is to speak of death!' thought Charlie.) 'But I am ever and always with you in spirit, my love. Do you ever dream of me, Carl? I ask this because last night I had such a delicious dream of _you_.' '_Last_ night,' thought Charlie, glancing again at the date of her letter--'7th' August; 'last night must have been the 6th, when we bivouacked in the stackyard, and I had such a vivid dream of her.' 'I imagined, love, Carl,' continued the letter, 'that I came upon you suddenly, when you were lying on the cold earth in your cloak, as I fear you too often are compelled to do. A great horror seized me! I thought you were dead, you looked so white and wasted; but a sudden joy came into my poor heart when I found you were but asleep. I drew your dear head upon my bosom, as a mother might do her baby's, and caressed you, calling you "My darling!" "My very own darling!" so distinctly that Herminia heard me speaking in my sleep.