It was in the stillness of the day. There was so little wind that the grass-stems in the meadow, and the rushes at the edge of the creek, scarcely bent. The butterflies passed from flower to flower on languid wing. The hum of the bees and the chirping of the crickets had a sleepy sound. All around, everything was still. However, out of the forest there frequently came the hoarse cry of the tree-falcon, or the call of a bird which Catherine did not recognize. In the blue sky there hung single white clouds whose shadows moved, slowly--very slowly--over the sunny prairie. At first Catherine was pleased with this quietude, which seemed an image of sabbath stillness, filling her soul. But she had scarcely thus sat an hour before the monotony of the scene about her filled her heart with a strange fear. How entirely different it was this morning. Then heaven and earth and tree and bush and every flower and every grass-stem smiled and bowed their welcome to her. Everything had spoken to her in persuasive language. Now that the beloved one was at a distance everything was dumb, except that heaven and earth and tree and bush and every flower and every grass-stem breathed out one word with ever-increasing sadness: Alone! alone! Catherine let her work sink into her lap. An image, that had been for many years as if blotted from her memory, suddenly came before her in pale colors, but very distinct--the image of her dead mother, who, adorned with flowers, lay in her coffin--and she a little girl, ten years old, stood beside it; and her father had come up and taken her hand and said: "We two are now alone." "Alone!" Her heart was filled with increasing fear. Again taking up her work she tried to sing a song that always occurred to her when everything was so quiet: "Were I a wild Falcon I would soar aloft." But she commenced so gently that she did not complete the first measure. Her voice sounded strange. She was frightened at her own voice. Perhaps, she thought, it would be better if she went to the barn-yard where in the morning she had passed such happy moments with Lambert. She arose and hastily walked down the path, at last running, and now with beating heart leaned against the bars of the inclosure. The sheep which stood near ran away frightened, and looked at her from a distance with dull eyes. In the yard all was still. The hens and turkeys had gone out into the fields. As she again turned, from among the fruit trees, in whose blossom-covered branches this morning a robin sang so sweetly, there broke out a brown bird of prey and with broad, flapping wings hastened toward the forest. On the ground among the grass there lay several colored feathers. More sad than when she went Catherine returned to the house, and again sat down before the door, with the full purpose now to wait quietly, and to fight down her depression of spirits.