“What strikes me as most appalling,” observed Falk, “is the dark prophetic meaning of the words, ‘The hour of my death has tolled!’ Angelica involuntarily foretold the moment of her dissolution.”
“How do you account for that naturally?” inquired Elisa.
“Excuse me, fair lady; I must perforce resign the office of interpreter general. I neither can, nor would I attempt to explain the very extraordinary occurrence we have just been listening to. If it happened, it was imperatively according to the order and laws of nature. I never met with so astonishing an instance as the sequel. I cannot account for it, and consequently it appears unnatural. In the same way is this egotistical theory the basis of all criticism. Höpfner, the jurist, gave, many years since, the invention of the balloon in illustration of an impossibility. In the later edition of his works this opinion has, of course, been suppressed. Meteoric showers, and other wonders of nature, which our ancestors looked upon as mere chimera, and ridiculed as such, are to us neither fabulous nor impossible, but acknowledged natural appearances. Popular belief, or, in other words, superstition, offers a mine of inquiry to the naturalist. Truth, it must be owned, does not always burst into light with all her full perfection; but what man of understanding would argue that the earth embosoms the sterile rock alone, because her gems and precious metals must be extracted by artificial means?”
“See!” exclaimed Elisa; “the magic hour is almost arrived. Now I am sure you all wish well to my Louis and myself, and that our lot may prove a happy one.”
“Pr’ythee patience, patience,” said Herrman; “depend upon it Falk will produce a solemn address to the New Year, adapted for the occasion. He has been composing and poetising the whole afternoon.”
“Well,” said the hostess, “it is really scandalous that we allow the year to close without a song. Come, Falk, produce it; I’ll wager you have brought one with you.”
“Indeed I have not; besides, the conversation was interrupted.”
“Produce it, Falk,” repeated the hostess: “I know you have it.”
“But it belongs to the New Year.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Elisa, “it is the congratulation Herrmann alluded to;” then taking her glass—“Here’s to the magic power of prediction.”
All hastened to touch glasses with the fair betrothed.
“Hark! I hear a bell,” said Herrmann.
“Hush! still!” answered the host, opening a window.
The quarter had already struck from the belfry. With a shrill clear sound the house clock repeated twelve. The company sat still, listening in silence to the expiring echoes of the year, as from the cathedral tower pealed forth in full deep tones the parting knell.
Elisa gently bent towards her betrothed. From her eyes beamed a paradise of youthful hope and happiness. Every one beheld with interest that mute expression of the fondest and purest affection.
The hostess gently approached her, and kissed her fair young brow, shaded by its rich chesnut curls. As yet no one ventured to break the stillness of that moment, until the nearer parish church, with still heavier toll, sent forth the last stroke of midnight.
Falk arose, noiselessly unfolding a sheet of paper, and, sinking his voice to a portentous whisper, began—
“Hark the death-bell’s tone—”
Elisa raised her eyes, and instantly fell with a cry of horror. The hostess and the baron received her, fainting and pale as death, in their arms.
“What was that?” asked all in a breath: some thought it was Elisa, having remarked her previous emotion, others said the cry was distant and had been the cause of her alarm. Meanwhile Elisa, assisted by the two physicians who were fortunately present, recovered her senses, and she explained that the cry which she also heard, certainly alarmed her at first, but on looking up, she thought she beheld a phantom; it seemed as if the Virgin stood before her, her face and form rigid like those of a
