Gottlieb. She is like all girls.

Ursula. Ah no, forsooth! 
Unlike all I have ever seen. 
For she has visions and strange dreams,
And in all her words and ways, she seems
Much older than she is in truth. 
Who would think her but fourteen? 
And there has been of late such a change! 
My heart is heavy with fear and doubt
That she may not live till the year is out. 
She is so strange,—­so strange,—­so strange!

Gottlieb. I am not troubled with any such fear!  She will live and thrive for many a year.

* * * * *

ELSIE’S CHAMBER.

* * * * *

Night. ELSIE praying.

Elsie. My Redeemer and my Lord,
I beseech thee, I entreat thee,
Guide me in each act and word,
That hereafter I may meet thee,
Watching, waiting, hoping, yearning,
With my lamp well trimmed and burning!

Interceding
With these bleeding
Wounds upon thy hands and side,
For all who have lived and erred
Thou hast suffered, thou hast died,
Scourged, and mocked, and crucified,
And in the grave hast thou been buried!

If my feeble prayer can reach thee,
O my Saviour, I beseech thee,
Even as thou hast died for me,
More sincerely
Let me follow where thou leadest,
Let me, bleeding as thou bleedest,
Die, if dying I may give
Life to one who asks to live,
And more nearly,
Dying thus, resemble thee!

* * * * *

THE CHAMBER OF GOTTLIEB AND URSULA.

* * * * *

Midnight. ELSIE standing by their bedside, weeping.

Gottlieb. The wind is roaring; the rushing rain
Is loud upon roof and window-pane,
As if the Wild Huntsman of Rodenstein,
Boding evil to me and mine,
Were abroad to-night with his ghostly train! 
In the brief lulls of the tempest wild,
The dogs howl in the yard; and hark! 
Some one is sobbing in the dark,
Here in the chamber!

  Elsie. It is I.

  Ursula. Elsie! what ails thee, my poor child?

Elsie. I am disturbed and much distressed, In thinking our dear Prince must die, I cannot close mine eyes, nor rest.

Gottlieb. What wouldst thou?  In the Power Divine His healing lies, not in our own; It is in the hand of God alone.

Elsie. Nay, he has put it into mine, And into my heart!

  Gottlieb. Thy words are wild!

  Ursula. What dost thou mean? my child! my child!

Elsie. That for our dear Prince Henry’s sake I will myself the offering make, And give my life to purchase his.

Ursula Am I still dreaming, or awake?  Thou speakest carelessly of death, And yet thou knowest not what it is.