I could feel how she was trembling, and I
turned and held her firmly.

"I never thought to see you any more,"
she said: "My God, how I have prayed to see
you, and repented of that dreadful night,
when I spoke foolishly against my heart, and
sent you from me angry! I thought that you
were dead; and the feeling of what I had
done, weighed upon me like a sin that never
could be pardoned or washed out. Three
years of bitter sorrow I have passed since
then; night after night, I have lain awake
and cried; until my heart is almost broken.
It was known that you had left by the coach,
but no one knew whither you had gone.
I have watched about the cathedral, and in
front of the old house many an evening, in
the hope that you might be tempted to
revisit them, if you were still alive; till, when
you did not come for months and years, I
could not doubt that you were dead. Yet to-
night I came again. It is three years to-
night since you left me. I heard with terror
some one opening the door from within, and
retired and saw that it was you. And you
were hurrying away, and in another moment
would have been gone again, for ever! Oh,
do not leave me again; never, never,
again!"

I was stunned, bewildered; but I spoke,
"Oh Alice, Alice, do not sue to me, I cannot
bear to hear you. I only am to blame for
my blind pride and obstinacy. I never will
forgive myself the sorrow I have caused you;
though I have suffered also very much. I
have never ceased to love you for a moment.
This very night, I came to seek your likeness
that I drew; little thinking I should
see you here again, and hear you talk like
this."

We stood near a lamp, and I saw how
changed she was—how thin and pale her
face; but she was still my Alice, whom I
loved so much. I put both arms about her
neck, and kissed her wet cheeks; took her
hands and kissed them many times, and told
her not to think about the past, and that I
would never leave her while I lived. We
turned, and walked down the street together,
and round the cathedral yard; but her talk
was still about the past, and all that she had
suffered. She asked me a hundred questions,
of where I had been, and what I had done
since that time; and cried afresh when I told
her how I had grieved for her sake. She made
me tell her how I had broken the statue, and
I showed her the side window where I entered,
and told her everything; for I remembered well
that night. We walked to and fro till it was
getting late, and still she had many things to ask
me, and to tell me. I returned with her towards
the lodge. We went in at the gate, and she
left me at the door while she entered, and
bade her sister guess what stranger she had
brought with her, and then called me to
surprise her. It was late when I left her,
promising to come again early in the morning;
but I found an inn still open in the city. I
rose early, and Alice and I walked again
together in the park, recalling the old times
and visiting all our favourite places. I kept
my promise not to leave her, and wrote to my
aunt to come to us, telling her for the first
time all our story.

So Alice became my wife. And when, in
after years, I attained to honour in my
profession, I gave the praise to Alice, who
restored to me my hope and spirit when they
failed.

BITS OF LIFE IN MUNICH.

CARNIVAL BALLS.

I SAW in the little daily paper, "The Latest
News," an announcement of a grand ball to
be given, in that grand Odeon with a lottery
for the benefit of the old Landwehr, or militia.
It was announced also, that their majesties
had graciously condescended to attend, and
that the whole court would be there. I therefore
felt a vast curiosity to go and see all that
was to be seen, and especially did I want to
have a good view of the young queen, of whom
my friend, Mr.———, was telling the other day
the most beautiful things; how that she was
the sweetest, gentlest, most amiable young
creature; quite a peasant girl in simplicity;
the purest, noblest being that was ever seated
on a throne; a lovely innocent flower, in the
midst of the temptations and intrigues of a
court; how that being too good for a queen,
she was fitted only to be an angel, and that
to see her with her children, was the most
beautiful thing in the world. After all this,
was it wonderful that I longed to be in the
same room with this pure, lovely, queenly
flower, and to see her dancing, with all the
joyousness of a peasant girl, among her
admiring people?

No sooner was my determination taken
than I set off to Madame F.'s, to ask them if
we could not go all together, not into the
gallery as I had been before, when I had
watched Anna in all her glory, but into the
ball-room, with the rest of the company.
They agreed immediately; no time was to be
lost, for the ball was that night, and the first
thing that was to be done, after securing
tickets, was to find out some officer who
would attend us, for without a uniform no
party of ladies could be admitted. No black
coats were on this occasion admissible;
nothing at all but uniforms; either an officer
of the army, or one of the militia must introduce
us. However democratic any of us
might be, we did not particularly covet the
escort of one of the militia, one's confectioner,
one's draper, or one's butcher; there was no
fear, however, of our being reduced to this
extremity, for Madame F. and her daughters
were acquainted with hosts of officers; and
Anna and Myra ran over a whole list of
names, any one of whom would only be too
happy to accompany us.