University of Virginia Library

10. X.

It was yet early morning when Anastasia awakened
and beheld Albert just about to leave the
chamber. She called to him, but he only smiled,
shook his head, waved his hand gently, and hurried

from her sight. She rose quickly from the
couch, and moved to the window, from which she
beheld him hastening down the rocks. He looked
back and caught her eye, and his finger was raised
as if in warning. The thought of the shooting
star came that moment to her mind, and she hurried
back to her couch.

He returned about mid-day, and seemed unhappy.
He started frequently, and looked around
him, as if in anxious expectation of the approach
of some desired person.

“You are troubled, Albert,” said Anastasia.
“Can I do any thing for you?”

“Yes!” was the sudden and almost stern reply.
“See not that I am troubled. When thou canst
not serve or sooth me, I will seek thee; — when I do
not seek thee, Anastasia, believe me, thou canst
not serve me. Seem then not to see that I suffer.”

“And thou dost suffer, Albert?”

“I live!” was the terrible response; and oh!
the immortal grief that looked forth in that moment
from his eyes.

“Would that I could die for thee, Albert!” was
her exclamation, as she flung herself upon his
bosom. He folded her fondly in his embrace,
while he replied to her as follows:

“Thou canst better serve me than by dying for

me, Anastasia — and far better serve thyself. Live
for me.”

“Do I not, dear Albert?”

“No — not yet — thou dost not live for thyself.”

She looked up wonderingly at the speaker —
he proceeded, and his voice was full of solemnity,
and there was an intense earnestness in his face
which she did not dare a second time to look
upon.

“Love thy condition for itself. Seek not to
see, and ask not to partake of, mine. Is there
any thing unknown to thee? — it is better for thee
that thou shouldst not know it. Has it come to
thee in a dream that a joy was in the valley awaiting
thee, beyond any ever known to thee before?
Turn thy footsteps with a fond solicitude from the
path which leads to the valley. The dream was a
lying one, sent for thy ensnaring. Thou wilt lose
what thou hast, in grasping at what thou hast not;
and the very hope which tells thee of a blessing to
come, steals a blessing from thee while it does so.
Beware, Anastasia, that thy head misleads not thy
heart, and thy fancy consumes not thy feelings.
Do we not love each other, Anastasia? Couldst
thou have a fonder or a truer love than mine?
Let it suffice thee — joy in what thou hast; — pray
to thy God, Anastasia; pray that, if thou dost not

yet, thou mayest soon learn to love thy condition
as thyself — it is more than thyself to thee.”

He kissed her, and left her with these mysterious
lessons, over which she pondered in doubt and
sadness.