CHAPTER IV.—THE NIGHT FALLS,

Otago Witness, Volume 17, Issue 1020, 17 June 1871, Page 19

CHAPTER IV.—THE NIGHT FALLS,

The soft twilight of an August day was stealing on as a carriage drove furiously along in the direction of Weissemburg. While passing through the village of Schweighoffen, about a mile from the battlefield, a soldier signalled the driver to stop. He then ad^ vanced and respectfully saluted the lady who occupied the carriage. " May I ask, madam," inquired he, " if you are from Mayence ?" " Yes." replied the lady ; " can you guide me to where Captain Brunei is?" " He lies at that village at the end of the forest there," replied the soldier. "We will reach it soon. " "Is he sorely wounded ?" inquired the lady, with pale, quivering lips. ; "He is not out of danger, madam," re* turned the soldier. As they entered the village the strains of music caught her e&r—mueic from that field

of victory and death. It was a hymn — that grand old German hymn of Luther's, "Em feste Burg ist unser Gott "— " Our God is a strong tower." Karl Brunei felt that he was passing away, and had asked his brotherofficers who were standing round his deathbed to fill his soul with its strains ere lie entered on the swellings of Jordan. The music had not well died away when Lily Stewart entered the room, and with one convulsive sob flung herself upon the bosom of her dying lover. In her wildness of despair she cried out, "My own Karl, you must not die. Your Lily is here to comfort and guide you. I cannot part with you, Karl ! Kiss your own Lily, and say that you will live !" " Ah, Lily, that hope is now for ever gone !" said the wounded soldier. "How I would have gloried in living for thy love and thy presence. But that sweet dream is o'er. After this night I will only be a dear memory to that pure soul of thine. Think kindly in after days of him who has lived the four best years of his life in the light of thine eyes and the love of thy heart." Karl's voice grew fainter ; the end had come Once more he seemed to rally strength for a final leave taking.

" Come near me, Lily ; my sight is dim. ' 1 would see your blue eyes once more ere I die There now", give me your little hand : I don't want to part with you till I am at denth's gate Oh ! how dark it is ! Kiss me, Lily, dear ! but ere the maiden stooped the spirit of the warrior had fled, and had joined that great army which no man can number. The horrible truth seemed now to dawn on Lily Stewart for the first time. She looked round on the company of brave fellows who were standing by that bed of death, saw not the faiutest ray of hope on any face, uttered one despairing shriek, and fainted away. At eventide of the following day a burial party was standing beside an open grave. The sound of the vesper bells was borne from Weissemburg ; the Lauter was murmuring past. Tears rolled down the chteks of brave fellows, whose hearts never knew a quiver of fear amidst the roar of battle. While Franz Limbaeh read the service he was almost overcome with emotion, as he heard tho convulsive sobs of that blue-eyed girl standing there at the foot of the grave. Sweet memories of the cloisters of Bonn to the one, and loved associations of Eolandseck to the other, were all that were left them by the brave heart which, now they were consigning to the dust in a foreign land. Long after the dews of night had commenced to fall there came a fair one and sat down beside that grave Through all the lone night she lingered there, Wee Eispah of old watching over her dead hopes. On the following day a tender hand strewed moss and lovely flowers on that sacred little mound ; but when another day came Lily's step had lost its firmness and her hand its power.

A sweet September twilight had fallen on the Rhine, and the soft evening breeze was stealing in through an open window that overlooked the river. The evening star was slowly advancing from behind the Wiesbaden hills, like ail angel of light leading on the twilight. An old sorrow- stricken man and a sweet blue-eyed German girl were prazinu in silence upon a lovely maiden with the pallor of deatli upon her face The two watchers were Dr Stewart and Elsie Brunei. At last the sick maiden stirred, and turning with loving gaze upon her father, said, " Have I slept long, father ?" " Many days Lily, dear. Do you feel refreshed now, sweet one ?" " Ah, no, father. lam going away home to meet mother and Karl. I have had such sweet dreams, and have seen both of them. Karl is now better of his wounds, and has been saying such kind tilings to me. I see it all now. I have only awoke to bid you and Elsie farewell. Will you buy me at Kolandseek, father. Do promise. Kiss me, father ! Kiss me, sister Elsie !" Ere the little German girl could stoop down, the pure soul of her dark-eyed Scotch sister had passed away.

The full moon had ascended from behind the peaks of the Siebengeberge, and was sending its silvery light down upon the blue Bhine as the bell of Ilolandseck's little church tolled a death-Icnell into the evening air. When the bell ceased, a coffin was borne slowly along. In that coffin was Lily Stewart, her hands folded Across her breast in peace, and in her bosom a portrait and one lock of golden hair. She was followed to her grave by twelve virgins, all robed in white. As they passed slowly up that little churchyard they sang a grand old German dirge, "The Hymn of the Good Virgin." The scene was impressive in the extreme— the little iit-up church, the twilight scarcely yet away, and the moon shining down upon that little coffin with the immortelles upon it and the mourners and the white-robed maidens around the grave. As they left the churchyard they sung the hymn again. In one plaintif and sweet thrill the chorus floated out into the silent night— " Forth we go into the njght, With vestal lamps all burning bright ; .Behold the Bridegroom conjeth. Our lister fair has entered in, Now sUfi is pure and free from sin ;] To us ifcjje Bridegroom cometh !"

The last notes, " the Bridegroom cometh," ■were echoed softly b^ck again from the island of Nonnenwert. The virgins heard it, and crossed themselves in tliejr fear. They thought of the sainted Hildegarde, Some of them averred that Lily Stewart was as much a, saint as they had ever heard of. So they went home to continue their own little life- dramas, and left the dead Lily in that #ttle Gta4'» acre fey the murmuring Rhine.