“Dost thou consider the acceptance of my hand possible, after what thou knowest!” exclaimed the young man, in open wonder.

“So far from regarding the question in that manner, I ask myself if it will be right—­if it be possible, to reject the preserver of my own life, the preserver of my father’s life, Sigismund Steinbach, because he is the son of one that men persecute?”

“Adelheid!”

“Do not anticipate my words,” said the maiden calmly, but in a way to check his impatience by the quiet dignity of her manner, “This is an important, I might say a solemn decision, and it has been presented to me suddenly and without preparation.  Thou wilt not think the worse of me, for asking time to reflect before I give the pledge-that in my eyes, will be for ever sacred.  My father, believing thee to be of obscure origin, and thoroughly conscious of thy worth, dear Sigismund, authorized me to speak as I did in the beginning of our interview; but my father may possibly think the conditions of his consent altered by this unhappy exposure of the truth.  It is meet that I tell him all, for thou knowest I must abide by his decision.  This thine own sense and filial piety will approve.”

In spite of the strong objectionable facts that he had just revealed, hope had begun to steal upon the wishes of the young man, as he listened to the consoling words of the single-minded and affectionate Adelheid.  It would scarcely have been possible for a youth so endowed by nature, and one so inevitably conscious of his own value, though so modest in its exhibition, not to feel encouraged by her ingenuous and frank admission, as she betrayed his influence over her happiness in the undisguised and simple manner related.  But the intention to appeal to her father caused him to view the subject more dispassionately, for his strong sense was not slow in pointing out the difference between the two judges, in a case like his.

“Trouble him not, Adelheid; the consciousness that his prudence denies what a generous feeling might prompt him to bestow, may render him unhappy.  It is impossible that Melchior de Willading should consent to give an only child to a son of the headsman of his canton.  At some other time, when the recollections of the late storm shall be less vivid, thine own reason will approve of his decision.”

His companion, who was thoughtfully leaning her spotless brow on her hand, did not appeal to hear his words.  She had recovered from the shock given by the sudden announcement of his origin, and was now musing intently, and with cooler discrimination, on the commencement of their acquaintance, its progress and all its little incidents, down to the two grave events which had so gradually and firmly cemented the sentiments of esteem and admiration in the stronger and indelible tie of affection.

“If thou art the son of him thou namest, why art thou known by the name of Steinbach, when Balthazar bears another?” demanded Adelheid anxious to seize even the faintest hold of hope.