the plantation beyond. The setting sun streaming through the dark firs lighted up what was generally rather a gloomy scene; the ground was covered with dried moss, and a thick brown carpet formed by the droppings from the withered branches of the trees, and relieved here and there by a massive shining fir-cone. Hans and Natalie went on in silence through the wood, following a winding path, the narrowness of which prevented their walking abreast. After continuing this path for about three-quarters of a mile, they arrived at the other end of the plantation, and emerged upon one of the grassy slopes which lay around the village, and from whence they could command a splendid view of the distant country. Immediately beneath them, in the valley, lay the little village of Nieder Brünnen. To the right of them flowed the Rhine the glory of the Vaterland-that river whose mere name could call forth such enthusiastic feeling in many a brave heart beneath the Prussian banners. Beyond, to the left, rose the mighty Schwarzwald, the witness before now of French reverses, for through its gloomy depths Moreau had retreated, pursued by the victorious Austrians. In the hazy distance rose the housetops and spires of Strasbourg, above all these towered the spire of the Cathedral, the admiration of the tourist, and the pride of every German heart. Perhaps the two young people scarcely realized the natural and historical associations connected with the scene before them, but they were sad and silent from feelings of their own. The fact of parting, and of parting, too, under such circumstances, had altered them both strangely. Natalie's vivacity was gone, and altogether she seemed softened and subdued, whilst, on the contrary, Hans's quiet, half indifferent manner had disappeared, and he was eager and anxious, almost nervously so in his demeanour. They sat down on the grass under the shadow of the wood, from which they had just emerged. There was silence for a few minutes, then it was broken by Natalie's exclaiming,

Oh, Hans! it is all so beautiful this evening, isn't it, in this glorious sunset? The Rhine there, how blue it looks, and how lazily it seems to flow on; and see how the sun is reflected in the windows in Nieder Brünnen, till it looks as if the village were illuminated. And the dear old Schwarzwald yonder, so grim and dark, looks like the guardian of the landscape, doesn't it ?"

Hans smiled in his old way.

"What fancies you have in your head, little cousin! notion of the Schwarzwald, making a sort of gend'arme of it!"

What a

"Before long you'll be looking on very different scenes, Hans," resumed Natalie; "I suppose you came here to-night that you might have a last look at all this ?"

No, cousin, not quite for that," returned Hans, colouring, and speaking rather more rapidly than usual. "I came here that we might be alone, and free from interruption, for I wanted to speak to you, Natalie; I am going away, and perhaps may never return again. Knowing this, there is one thing I must say to you before I go. Cousin, dear, I love you! I have loved you for a long, long time. I may seem dull and slow; I fear I am so, perhaps to you; but my heart, I think, is warm and faithful. I cannot express my feelings well, I know, for I am only a man of few words; but believe me, Natalie, I love you with my whole soul, and before I go to Strasbourg I want an answer from you. Will you be my wife if I am spared to return from this war?"

There was a moment's silence. Nothing to be heard but the faint tinkling of the sheep-bells in the meadows below them, and the "whirring" of the owls in the plantation. Natalie was so taken by surprise, that she sat for a moment speechless. She had never thought of Hans as a lover, still she did like him very much, and had felt very miserable all day about his going away. Perhaps she had been in love with him after all, without being aware of it. Scarcely knowing what she said, she answered, hesitatingly,

Hans, you are very good.

you have always been very kind to me like a brother, though you know . . . that I have never thought of

of... of loving you in the way you mean I

at least, I don't know

...

am afraid I don't. I have never thought about it-" Natalie blushed, and at length fairly broke

down.

'I know, cousin," continued the young man, "that I have never said anything of the kind to you before; I hoped if we lived on here together, I might get you to be fond of me in time. I thought some day you would perhaps see, that if I was slow in thought and speech I was also faithful in my love for you. The Mütterchen knows nothing of this, nor our grandfather. I should not have spoken of it now if I had not been going to the war; I will never speak of it again if you do not wish it. You say you don't love me, because you have never thought of me as a lover; but don't you think you might care for me by-and-by, cousin, now you know of my love for you ?"

He stopped; there was a long pause.

"Yes or No, Natalie," repeated Hans, a little impatiently.

This conversation might be “ 'play" to Natalie; it was a matter of life or death to him, poor fellow.

"Yes, I believe I might love you, Hans," the girl said, rather timidly at last. "I think I should do so in time, as you are so fond of me; but how if I don't feel certain about it ?" and she looked up wistfully in her cousin's face.

I am

“Oh, I feel sure that all will come right some day," responded Hans, cheerfully; "I believe, Natalie dear, we shall love each other very much" (here Hans put his arm gently round her waist.) “I don't expect you to care for me as much as I do for you, of course. such a stupid clumsy Bursch,' I know, and you are such a dainty darling. But now I can feel that you have really promised to be my own little wife, I shall go to the war with quite a light heart. If I had not had your promise, Natalie, it would have made such a difference to me. I don't say I should have thrown my life away, that is God's gift, and I leave it in His hands: besides I have my poor old Mütterchen to live for, but now I shall have to try and deserve you, my dear

one."

Natalie had been very quiet during this speech. She played idly with some blades of grass, surprised to hear Hans say so much at once, but thoroughly touched by his tender and manly tone. She felt rather alarmed at the idea of having given a promise, but after Hans's last words she could not well draw back, so she brightened up, and said cheerfully,

"I shall try and love you very much, Hans dear. I am very sorry you are going to leave us, but you will come back quite a hero perhaps, and I shall be so proud of you. I feel for France, and you fight for Germany, still my heart will be with you, cousin, and I know how to honour and love 'un brave,' on whichever side he may be ranged."

"I am sorry, my dearest, that you cannot love the Vaterland as I do, but you will perhaps some day. As for me, if I love Germany much, I love you more, before the good GOD I say it," and Hans bared his head reverently. "Now that you are promised to me I shall have some one to fight for, and live for. And then, when this cruel war is over, we may perhaps marry and settle down here for life so happily. The grandfather is getting old, he will give me the farm some day I expect, and there will be plenty of room for us all here, Natalie, won't

there? The Mütterchen of course would be with us, we could not leave her you know. I know all the land, and have been on the farm so long that I am sure I could manage to make a good livelihood out of it. You know all the cows, and goats, and fowls too, and learn to manage the dairy and make the cheeses, and all that kind of thing just as the Mütterchen does. What a dear little you will make!"

you must

Hausfrau '

Natalie did not reply at once to this bright unfolding of Hans's plans for the future, and her face was a little clouded. Perhaps the life of connubial felicity sketched by her lover did not exactly accord with her own ideas on the subject; perhaps the retention of the "Mütterchen" as an inmate did not appear to her an unalloyed blessing. Laying her hand lightly on Hans's shoulder she said, "Dear old Hans, we must not look forward too much, and—” hesitating, "you must not think it unkind, but I should like no one to know of this but ourselves; do not speak of it to your mother nor to our grandfather."

"Very well, dear Natalie, I will not if you don't wish it, though I confess I should like to have told the Mütterchen," and Hans sighed ; "but anyhow I know you will be a daughter to her if—if I fall in this war," and his voice faltered a little.

"Hans, I need not promise that-rest assured of it,” and Natalie pressed his hand.

Seal your promise then, dear one," and drawing her towards him Hans kissed her. Natalie returned his kiss warmly enough. It was very natural to kiss Cousin Hans. She had done so as a matter of course ever since childhood, and there was nothing strange or new in doing so now, especially as he was going away so soon.

The evening was closing in around them. The sun had long since set behind the Schwarzwald, and the moon was just appearing above the dark pine trees. The houses in the village had become invisible with the exception of one or two which were lighted up inside and presented the appearance of enormous glowworms reposing on the slopes. In the silence which reigned around, the murmuring of the river below could be distinctly heard.

"We must go, Natalie," said Hans; "it grows late and we are yet some way from home. One more kiss, dear one; we must part tonight, for at daybreak to-morrow I start for Strasbourg." Again he embraced her, and then they rose to return home. As they were reentering the plantation Natalie exclaimed

“Why it is even more beautiful by moonlight than in the sunset, Hans; only look! This wood so dark and gloomy, with its overgrown tangle and deep hollows, and out yonder all so open and clear with the bright moonlight on it. Such a lovely contrast! It reminds me of the motto we saw carved round the baron's shield and coat-ofarms in the old Schloss at Wiederin-Durch Nacht zum Licht,' those were the words, Hans, don't you remember ?"

Hans shook his head and was silent.

"I thought them so beautiful then," resumed Natalie, "and now this scene reminds me of them. Through the darkness to the light.' Through this dark, gloomy plantation to the bright open country, full of life and light. And it is the same with us, Hans, isn't it? We have to go through this dreary time of war and separation to a happy life of peace and re-union. Is it not so, cousin? You must take the words Durch Nacht zum Licht' for your motto-do, Hans, will you?" Hans smiled. "All right, anything to please you, dear one. Why what fancies you have in that little head of yours. Come let us make haste home, or we shall have it 'Nacht' before we get there."

With these words he lifted Natalie over the low brushwood fence and they retraced their steps along the narrow path, Hans leading the way, and whistling a lively air, rather an unusual action with him. Natalie followed, a little disappointed. "How strange it was,” she thought, "that somehow she and Hans could not exactly get on together. When he was so eager and pleased a little time ago she had found it very difficult to respond to him, and she really thought he did not understand her one bit. Things she felt to be so beautiful were mere silly fancies to him. It did not matter much, as long as they were only cousins, but now- -! Well, she would try to be patient and loving, for Hans was good and true."

The walk home was a long one, Natalie looked wearied and sad when she entered the house; she seemed anxious to avoid observation and retired at once to her room.

Hans set off the next morning, as he had proposed, shortly after daybreak. Natalie did not rise to see him start; she fancied he would rather be alone with his mother at the last, but she caught a glimpse of him from her window. He looked up and kissed his hand, Natalie waved hers in return, and he was gone. No last looks, nor lingering behind for him. Leavetaking was a painful business to poor Hans, he was glad to get it over as quickly as possible. The Tannenhaus seemed