George, who lay nearly fainting in the arms of, her only comfort, the one stay by which she is some workmen. He looked up at her—never, no never in all my life have I seen such a look!--and forgetting every thing, she threw herself beside him exclaiming,

I hurried after her, I spoke to her, she saw and heard nothing but the wounded George, whom she held in her arms and bathed with her tears.

supported—her religion and the love she bears her child. Her little one is now doubly dear to her, since George saved it at the risk of his own life. He, too, suffered patiently, and never through all his sleepless nights and long days of agony, did a complaint or cry of pain escape his lips. He never spoke of Rosina, but when we told him that the child lived, and that his hero

Neither could speak. George hadism had not been in vain, he looked thankfully retained his senses until he had again seen and embraced his Rosina, and then sank back senseless, and the workmen bore him from the court yard.

I had given my husband a sign that he under stood, and ordered the people to take George to our house; when Rosina heard it she fell sobbing upon my neck, comforted with the thought that every thing needful would be done for him, and that she would thus be able to send her poor friend such assistance as was in her power.

towards heaven, and it was the first and last time that I saw an expression of joy in his face. He acknowledged all we did for him with a gentle, childlike love, but quitted our house, uttering many blessings on us, as soon as he was able. Since then, he has never entered the valley, he lives by the labor of his hands, which now must be very hard upon him, and by conducting travellers. He remains always in the forest or on the mountains, growing each day more misanthropic, and I fear and tremble to think-for I love George as a brotherwhat may be the end of it."

The hostess here ended her relation, which had greatly increased Z.'s interest in George. It had, also, excited his warmest sympathy for Rosina, and he determined to visit her husband that afternoon.

Kluge received him with many compliments, excuses and endless regrets that he had not seen him in the morning. On Z.'s expressing a wish to see his works and warehouses, he was politely conducted through them. They were large and costly, though Z. observed many things which indicated the restless, covetous spirit of the owner. They then made the circuit of the garden and house, the former of which was utterly neglected, while the latter was furnished with a tasteless ostentation, far above and most inappropriate to the iron master's condition.

Meantime, the fire was extinguished, and every one went home. I found my patient under the care of the doctor, whom my husband had already sent for, severely but not dangerously wounded. Yet he suffered dreadfully during the six weeks he was ill at our house, and at last continued lame, as you know. During this time, Rosina had to endure even more than the sick man. Her husband, who believed her old attachment was subdued, was furious at what happened the night of the fire, and it must be granted no husband would be pleased by such a thing. But it made him too wicked, and he did all he could to make his wife more wretched than she was already. Sometimes she must hear of all the need and misery to which the doctor prophecied George would be reduced by the injuries he had received, and how he suffered in having his wounds dressed. Then he would tell her how all the country people jeered at her love for a poor woodcutter, and of his to her, which would lead him through fire and flames in hopes no doubt of being fully rewarded—and many other such humiliating and disgraceful things. Besides, he watched her like a dragon, so that she dared not stir a step beyond the house, and when at last the notion struck him that she might possibly assist the unfortunate man with money, he took the household purse away from her, and thus dis-of him. His guide was on this occasion less graced her before all her servants."

He is a real monster, this Herr Kluge," said Z. and poor Rosina is a patient martyr."

"That she is," honored sir, "patient and pious, and submissive to the will of God. It is

Coffee was prepared in the dining room, and to his great joy Rosina entered to pour it out for them. He had now time to observe her closely and to perceive how beautiful she must have been when in her early bloom. She spoke but little, yet her tone had nothing of suffering in it, and neither by look, word, or motion, did she betray her secret sorrow. Z. returned to his inn pleased with having made Rosina's acquaintance and determined to take another walk with George that he might see something more

distant and silent than before, and Z. was surprised at the choice and almost poetic language which the sight of the beautiful scenery at times drew from him. The kind and generous traveller would fain have expressed his sympathy for his companion's hard fate, and offered, if

in silence, moved amidst all this splendor, as quietly, as patiently, and as joylessly as

possible, to improve his condition to the extent
of his power, but there was something about
the young woodcutter that forbade him and sup-before.
pressed the words that already were on his lips.

When their walk was ended, Z. had not the heart to offer his conductor the miserable pay.nent of the day before. He hesitated a moment, and then drew from his pocket a handsome travelling case, furnished with pencils, penknife, scissors, &c.

“I return to-morrow to Vienna," he said, "and shall not need this any longer-will you keep it in remembrance of one you have obliged, and who is not willing you should forget him?" George stood for a moment, surprised, ashamed, and affected. The kindness of the stranger at last conquered his pride. "I thank you," he said, seizing his hand, "there was no need of this gift to cause me to remember you. Your goodness has refreshed and elevated me, and you have thus given me much more than this beautiful keepsake." He shook Z.'s hand and with much feeling added—“Do not forget an unhappy man who thanks your goodness and condescension for one of his brightest days." Z. believed that at this moment George's heart might open to him, but while a question was on his tongue, the young man turned from him suddenly and was lost in the thicket, leaving him astonished at the mixture of pride and half confidence in his singular deportment.

"And George ?" asked Z. of the inkeeper, who, as on his former visit, gave him these

accounts.

"George? who is he?" Z. described him as well as he could. No one in the house knew any thing of George, the woodcutter. He then determined to inquire after him at the forge. The agent was a civil well behaved young man. Z. questioned him closely, and after some recollection he said, "Yes, yes! I do remember the handsome courageous fellow. He was one of the best and most active workmen, and deserved a better fate. He then related the following circumstances.

George continued to lead his hermit life through the autumn when Z. left him and during the following winter. True to his resolution he never entered the village, but Herr Kluge had long marked him out as an object of his hatred, and since the occurrences at the fire, which had shown to the world his love for Rosina, had pondered deeply how he might ruin him and deprive Rosina of every hope of seeing him again and even of all knowledge of his fate. About new year George disappeared from the neighborhood. He came no more to work with the woodcutters; his hut in the rocky corner of the alps stood empty and all his comThe next morning Z. left the valley andrades mourned the loss of their true and resolute returned to the capitol, fully determined to visit { companion. No one knew whither he had gone, a spot so interesting to him on the following and by degrees the opinion gained ground that year. Three summers passed away, however, he must have fallen down a precipice in one of before circumstances enabled him to fulfil his his adventurous walks, or that the ice had someintention. The fourth found him on his way where broken and he had fallen through. These to R., his imagination busy with what might reports spread even to the forge. Rosina heard have happened to the young people whose story them, turned deathly pale, but suffered silently he had by no means forgotten, and wondering Contrary to all her expectations her husband whether fate or chance had effected any changes was the only one who gave no faith to these supin their circumstances. positions, and constantly declared that he was sure the lost man would sooner or later he found again.

When he reached the inn, he found that his kind host and hostess were no longer there; the iron master to whom it belonged having, on account of their kindness to George, oppressed them in so many ways, that they were at last obliged to leave it. Herr Kluge had also left the forge to the care of an agent, and had removed two years before to the next town, where he could enjoy the fruits of his industry. There he lived in great splendor, gave entertainments which were the talk, not only of the town, but of the neighboring country, kept fine carriages, horses, servants, &c. played high and drank deep. His wife saw plainly the precipice of ruin on which her husband stood, but could do nothing to lead him to avoid it, and, long used to bear her cross

So passed the winter. The following spring Herr Kluge was obliged to take a journey among the mountains, and as the physicians had ordered a change of air for Rosina (the usual remedy when they know not what else to advise) her husband proposed she should accompany him. It was the first time since her marriage that he had urged her to do any thing that was pleasant, but now he told her much of the beauty of the country, and of the agreeable life she might lead among his friends the wealthy iron masters of the mountains. Rosina thanked him for his kindness and undertook the journey. Her husband had not promised too much, the scenery was beautiful, she was most hospitably enter

tained, though with a splendor so fatiguing to her { kerchief she had given George as a keepsake, that she soon wished herself again in her native when they were separated. valley. But she had yet to see a celebrated water fall of which her husband had talked a great deal before they had left home, and she accompanied him and his brother-in-law to visit

it.

They led her through a narrow green valley to a stream, on the banks of which numerous small wood piles announced that the timber trade was carried on in the neighborhood. They then climbed a high precipitous hill, on whose top was a solitary log hut, roughly put together, it was the dwelling of the wood cutter who had the care of the sluice. Rosina looked at the lonely hut, the surrounding solitude, the half hewn timber, and her heart filled with melancholy recollections. In this wood they led her to the spot where the mountain stream, now swollen by the melted snow, rushed with a thundering noise over the rocky height, a mass of snow-white foam, into the depths below. A fine mist moistened the spectators even at some distance, beneath, the waters raged and boiled in their rocky cauldron, and Rosina saw with a kind of shudder some boards that had been thrown into the abyss crushed by the roaring flood into a thousand splinters. "Heavens!" she cried, "if a man should fall down there?"

it

They took Rosina into the hut, where she slowly recovered, but was so weak they were obliged to carry her to the carriage. She never after alluded to the occurrence, but weeks passed before she was able to resume her ordinary duties.

Soon after Herr Kluge removed to the town, and Rosina, now dead to all earthly interests, found that her sorrows might further be increased by the misconduct of her husband in his devotion to drinking and high play. He lost immense sums at cards and sought to drown the remembrance of them in wine. He lived sumptuously and his expenses so far exceeded his income that he was obliged to sell and mortgage much of his property. "If he goes on as he has done for three years past," thus the agent concluded his tale, " nothing will be left for it, honored sir, but that he must sell the whole of these iron works of which not more than a fourth part is now his own. I pity from my heart his poor wife and child, whom he is bringing to beggary.

Z. who had listened to the young man's recital with painful interest, soon quitted the deserted house and knew not which he should pity most, poor George, who, though he had met with a fearful fate, was safe in the haven of rest, or, the unfortunate Rosina, who in apparent peace and affluence had outlived all the joys of life and saw nothing but a helpless old age before her. He hastily quitted the once pleasant valley, with the firm determination never again to enter it.

Herr Kluge went on, as before, through another year. Rosina's prayers that he would at least care for her child, and his agent's warn

"Such an accident happened not long since," said the brother-in-law, and pointed to an alder bush on the steep rock opposite them, was a strange wood cutter who had been working here for several weeks. The soil was slippery from a recent rain, and his companions warned him against climbing the rocks to that height where he was going to cut down a fir tree. He would not listen to them, but climbed boldly as far as that alder, when a loose stone gave wayings of his impending ruin, were lost in the beneath him and he was thrown backwards into the abyss." Rosina shuddered- His companions saw him fall, struggle an instant in the whirlpool, and then disappear. It was perfect fool-hardiness in the man to attempt the ascent. Some believe it was done intentionally for he was always melancholy."

fatal passions to which he had devoted himself. But dissipation at length undermined his health, and having sustained an immense loss at a private faro bank, which on the same night was discovered and seized by the police, the fear of shame and punishment affected so strongly his shattered constitution, that a nervous fever was the

"Did you not know who he was?" asked consequence which in a week terminated his life. Herr Kluge.

Stunned by the sudden stroke, and weakened "No one knew him here. His comrades by her exertions during his illness, Rosina stood next day found, on a bush, in the valley where by the coffin of her husband and knew not the water is calmer, a handkerchief he always whether to thank heaven for her deliverance, or wore about his neck. Show it, Joseph," added to view this turn of her fate as a new misforhe, to one of the men who had conducted them. tune. True, the departed had done but little to The man produced a handkerchief of blue silk beautify her life; but it was he to whom she striped with white. Rosina looked at it, her had plighted her faith at the altar, he was the eye glazed, and she trembled in every limb-father of her child and of late he had been a without uttering a cry she fell senseless at her sufferer like herself, though in a different manhusband's feet. She had recognised the hand- ner and through his own guilt. She had there

fore shed many tears by his dying bed, and offered many a secret, heartfelt, prayer, for the deliverance of his sinful soul.

But when the first shock was over, and she was able to collect her scattered thoughts, she began to feel that heaven had been kind to her in unloosing the unhappy tie that for five years past had embittered her life. She felt, too, that the liitle that would probably remain from the ruins of her husband's once splendid fortune would be far more precious with peace and quietness, than the pomp and superfluity of her former miserable life. She at once began to look into her affairs, called the creditors together and when at the end of half a year the debts were paid, she found that scarcely enough remained to support her child and herself in the humblest manner. When all was settled she sold her jewels and her expensive clothing, hired a small dwelling in the same town and endeavored by her own exertions to increase her little income that she might bestow a good education on her child.

Thus she lived, not indeed, happily, for to that blessing she had bidden farewell at her separation from George; but in health and peace. George's image often floated before her eyes in all the light of heavenly glory, and she never for a moment yielded to the fearful suggestion that he had sought his death. He had always feared his maker, and, like herself, had found his only consolation in religion; she could not then think that God had so utterly forsaken him, as to let him dare to put an end to his exist

ence.

The world was at this time in great commotion. It was in the year 1812-13. Rosina in her retirement, lent her prayers and pious wishes to the good cause, longing for the happy time when peace might be restored to the earth. She also longed even more ardently for the moment, when, having performed all a mother's duties to her son, she might confide his worldly interest to her brother, now a prosperous farmer, and herself retire to the quiet of a cloister, devoting her days to prayers, and to the memory of the beloved of her youth.

marry again, but he still persisted in his addresses, and, that, so openly, that the whole town spoke of it, and as they could not believe that the poor widow who once had been used to so much splendor would refuse so brilliant an offer, they looked upon her as betrothed, and the report of her engagement soon reached her former home.

She soon received a letter from an intimate friend in the valley of R-, the wife of an officer under government, who had removed there shortly before Rosina left it, congratulating her on her engagement. Rosina replied, by assuring her she did not think of marrying, and not long after came another letter from Frau Fischer (so her friend was called,) informing her that a purchaser had been found for the forge, which had some time before been offered for sale by the creditors. The place had been bought by a captain of Hussars, who, having gained a cross in the last war, now wished to enjoy rest and retirement, as he had been wounded. He was, as Frau Fischer wrote, a tall and handsome man, who showed much business talent, and expected soon to restore the disorganized works to their former prosperity. One day, when, at Frau Fischer's house, he had seen a picture of Rosina, and, after hearing her situation, had told her friend that he should think himself most happy if Rosina's heart was still free, and she would be willing to take her place again at the head of her former establishment. He had laid a peculiar emphasis upon the words if her heart is still free, and begged that her friend would ask the question for him.

Rosina was greatly distressed at receiving this letter; it seemed, as if the peace she sought was always to be denied her. Immediately she sat down and desired her friend to inform the officer that her heart was indeed no longer free, hoping this might spare her any further proposals. Frau Fischer communicated this answer as gently as she could, at the same time assuring the officer that she believed the devotion of the merchant had at length made an impression on her friend's heart. He thanked her for the trouble she had taken, and did not again resume the She could not long enjoy this hope. One of subject. Some weeks had already passed since the largest creditors of her husband, a mer- he had concluded his purchase, he had nearly chant in the same town, a widower, rich and furnished the house and commenced carrying on handsome, had become acquainted with her the works, when he suddenly found some error during the settlement of the estate. Her in- in the accounts, which, only the former agent, tegrity, her gentleness, her misfortunes, and, now removed to a great distance, or the widow above all, her beauty, which sorrow could not of the recent proprietor who had inspected all entirely destroy, impressed him strongly, and he the papers at the time of her husband's death, offered her his hand with the assurance that her would be able to rectify. The matter must be child should be considered as his own. She at decided on the spot. Frau Fischer sent her once informed him of her resolution never to carriage for Rosina, who now, after so long an

absence, and in such altered circumstances, found herself again in the valley where the brightest, and also the most wretched, hours of her life had been passed.

Towards evening,

Frau Fischer received her with great joy, and told her, what calmed her a little as to her approaching interview with the officer, that since her decided answer, he had never renewed the subject of his addresses. when it became cool, Rosina could not resist the impulse which led her to her former home in the house of her departed parents, to the church in which she had so often prayed and wept, to the fearfully beautiful defile in the dale, where, in her happier hours, she had wandered with her beloved George, and since then so often in solitude and tears. She took a by-path, in order to avoid the forge, for she feared she might meet the officer, and after having visited the place of her birth and the church, stole through the most lonely path to the defile which she reached unobserved.

There she wandered, lost

in sad and sweet remembrances, and came to the spring by which she had so often rested while her friend drew for her its refreshing water. She approached the hut that sheltered it, and was already on the bridge, when she saw a man bending over the spring drawing water in a wooden cup. He was simply clad in a country garb, and Rosina hesitated a moment whether she should turn back, or pass the spring house and pursue her path. At this instant the stranger rose, turned and walked out of the hut. Rosina's blood chilled in her veins-she saw that form-those features-and with a voice of joyful terror, exclaimed "George!" and fainted.

He sprang towards her, recognized her, and bore the beloved burden to the fountain, where be sprinkled her with water and by a thousand tender cares and epithets of love, recalled her to herself. She raised her head, looked doubtfully at him, and then sank down again with the ery, "It is indeed yourself, you are alive," weeping upon his breast.

all believed you dead, ah! what have I not suffered for you!"

George now told her that her late husband had caused him to be seized by some soldiers, one night, in his hut, who had dragged him off as a recruit. He could be of no use in the infantry so they made him a horseman. He yielded to a fate he could not change, and, in fact, was not unwilling to continue in the service which he should have entered long ago, but for his desire of remaining near Rosina. Indeed, he hoped still to be not far distant from her, for his regiment was stationed in the neighborhood of the valley. He also wrote to Rosina as soon as he was able, but received no answer. "And I alas! no letter," said Rosina. "Nor one from Hungary nor from Poland ?" "Not a syllable. I believed you drowned in the waterfall at Oh! George, George!" she cried, embracing him with anguish. did not throw yourself into it?"

"You

He smiled. He had never been there, but remembered having missed the blue handkerchief soon after his seizure. He was soon removed to a regiment of Huzzars then stationed in Hungary, thence they went to Poland, and thence, in the year 1813, to Germany, and across the Rhine to the enemy's capital. He told her of the battles of Kulm, Leipsic and Montmartre, while Rosina listened with deep emotion. From all he said, it was clear to her that her husband had intercepted George's letters, and then contrived, with his brother-inlaw's assistance, the deceit at the waterfall, to deprive her of all hope of ever seeing him again.

They had sat long in happy forgetfulness of all the world, when the deepening twilight warned Rosina to return to her friend. As they went she remarked that George walked slowly and with difficulty, He then told her that he had suffered much in the war, and had repeatedly been injured in his wounded limb. Rosina was distressed, Ah, George!" she said, "how then will you be able to work? And you suffer all this on my account." "And for that reason I do not regard my "Ah! I have thought of none but you," sufferings. Perhaps, beloved, you fear to said Rosina." share my lowly fate with me? You are young, handsome, admired—I dare not stand in the way of your happiness."

"And do you love me still?" asked George, at last, have you not forgotten me in this long, long time?"

But the rich merchant that seeks your hand, and the answer you sent to the officer???

Rosina reproached him gently for this unworthy thought. "Once," she said, "you persuaded me to give you up. We have both been miserable because I yielded to you. Now, I

"I heard of it. The officer was my captain never will leave you more, and God, who has and I am now here in his service." protected you in all your dangers, and has so "But tell me," said Rosina," how it is-we mercifully united us, will take care of us still "