One weary form was through with its earthly toil; one bark was moored to celestial shores, beyond this rough clime, this imperfect world, in which all are judged by externals.  She was no longer old and wrinkled,—­“But a fair maiden in her father’s mansion.”

The town buried her and sold the few articles of furniture to defray expenses.  Thus ended the life of one who was once the belle of a great city, the child of luxury and tender care, and her body was laid in the town lot among the graves of the poor.  All supposed she died alone, at night, and a few words of real pity fell from some lips as all that remained of her on earth was borne through the streets.

Before the winter snows fell, Mrs. Armstrong planted a white rose beside her grave, remarking to her husband, that it was hard for one to die alone unloved, and a stranger to all about her.  “She may have been once lovely and beloved,” she said, as she pressed the sod close about the tree.  “I should not like to die away from my kindred, with none to care for my last resting place.”  This done, the kind woman walked home happier for the deed of goodness she had performed, while unseen hands dropped their heavenly benedictions on her head.

CHAPTER XVII.

In a small parlor in the city of Berlin, where, fifty years ago, young Sibyl’s heart had thrilled to words of love, sat a party of young men, over their wine, while mirth and song flowed freely.

Light-hearted, and free from care, they had met to pass the evening hours, with songs and wondrous tales.

“Come my good fellows,” said the eldest, who appeared to be the leader of the group, “we must relate our stories, as the hours are waning.  Krepsel, we will hear from you first, to-night.”

“Shall the tale be sad or gay?” said Krepsel, looking around the group.

“Either,” exclaimed the voices in chorus.  He took a glass of wine and then commenced.

“Many years ago a young man was studying in a Military Academy in this city, who, a few weeks after his entrance, had a strange dream, or vision, which changed all the future which he had mapped out for himself.  He had a great love of art, and was often found with his pencil and paper, apart from others, instead of mingling in their recreations.  For several nights, he dreamed that a lovely female approached his bed-side, and bent over him with a look of affectional interest.

“The vision so vividly impressed him that he employed his first leisure moment in sketching the lovely face.  At every touch and line, his admiration grew more intense, until at length he could scarcely keep the fair image from being ever prominent in his mind.  It haunted his day dreams, till he could scarcely conceal his impatience to relate the strange vision to his mother and sister.  The fair one stood each night at his side, until the first day of his vacation season arrived, and he left to pass its days at home.  When within a few miles of his destination, he saw the same face before his waking vision.  This time her features were sad, but not less lovely.  Indeed the air of melancholy gave the features a deeper charm, and more strongly than ever he desired to reach his home, and find, if possible, a solution of the strange apparition.