From above, the cloudless, greenish-blue evening sky looked down, while a flock of wild swans was flying northward up the valley. From time to time they uttered their peculiar, melancholy cry, melodiously softened by the distance. A deep, quiet stillness brooded over the primitive forest. The young man stood leaning against the shoulder of the horse. There rested on his brown face a deep, sad anxiety. Often a shadow of restlessness and fear passed over it, widely differing from the usual expression of the smooth, manly features, and obscuring the light that commonly danced in the large blue eyes. He looked now at the swans, which shone as silver stars in the distant, rosy horizon--now at the maiden who sat there, partly turned away from him. At length, drawing a deep breath a couple of times, he approached her. "Catherine," said he. She raised her handsome face. Her large brown eyes were filled with tears. "Are you sorry that you have come with me?" said the young man. Catherine shook her head. "No," said she; "how unthankful I should then be." "And yet, you are weeping." "I am not weeping," said Catherine, as she drew her hands across her eyes and tried to smile. "I was just thinking how happy my father would have been, had he, at the end of his wanderings, found this still place. Ah! just so had he wished and dreamed. Still it could not be so. How your parents will rejoice to see you again." She was about to rise. Lambert touched her shoulder. "Stay yet a moment, Catherine, I have--I must ask you something." The anxiety that had already before showed itself in his face become still greater. His brows were contracted. His eyes had a stern, severe look. Catherine looked up at him with astonishment. "Had my parents meanwhile died and you and I, Catherine, must dwell alone in yonder house--" "You must not speak so, Lambert Sternberg," said Catherine. "It is our duty to trust the Lord. They are doubtless alive and well--they and your brother. Why do we lose time? The evening is passing and I am fully rested."