That night Emma of Ilmenau went to her chamber¹ with a heavy heart, and her dusky eyes were troubled with tears. She was one of those gentle beings, who seem created only to love and to be loved. A shade of melancholy² softened³ her character. She shunned⁴ the glare of daylight and of society, and wished to be alone. Like the evening primrose⁵, her heart opened only after sunset; but bloomed through the dark night with sweet fragrance⁶. Her mother, on the contrary, flaunted⁷ in the garish⁸ light of society. There was no sympathy between them. Their souls never approached, never understood each other, and words were often spoken which wounded deeply. And therefore Emma of Ilmenau went to her chamber that night with tears in her eyes.  
She was followed by her French chamber-maid, Madeleine, a native of Strassburg, who had grown old in the family. In her youth, she had been poor,--and virtuous⁹ because she had never been tempted¹⁰; and, now that she had grown old, and seen no immediate¹¹ reward for her virtue¹², as is usual with weak minds, she despaired of Providence¹³, and regretted she had never been tempted. Whilst this unfortunate personage was lighting¹⁴ the wax tapers¹⁵ on the toilet, and drawing the bed-curtains, and tattling about the room, Emma threw herself into an arm-chair, and, crossing her hands in her lap, and letting her head fall upon her bosom¹⁶, seemed lost in a dream.
 
"Why have these gentle feelings been given me!" said she in her heart. "Why have I been born with all these warm affections,--these ardent¹⁷ longings¹⁸ after what is good, if they lead only to sorrow and disappointment? I would love some one;--love him once and forever;--devote myselfto him alone,--live for him,--die for him,-- exist alone in him! But alas¹⁹! in all this wide world there is none to love me, as I would be loved,--none whom I may love, as I am capable of loving. How empty, how desolate²⁰, seems the world about me! Why has Heaven given me these affections, only to fall and fade!"
 
Alas! poor child! thou too must learn like others, that the sublime²¹ mystery of Providence goes on in silence, and gives no explanation of itself,--no answer to our impatient questionings!
 
"Bless me, child, what ails²² you?" exclaimed Madeleine, perceiving that Emma paid no attention to her idle gossip. "When I was of your age--"
 
"Do not talk to me now, good Madeleine. Leave me, I wish to be alone?"
 
"Well, here is something," continued the maid, taki............