Christina looked up the hillside for the snow-wreath. The
May sunshine had dissolved it; the green pass lay sparkling without a
vestige of its white coating. Her eyes full of tears, she pointed
the spot out to Eberhard. He understood; but, leaning towards her,
told, under his breath, of the phantom he had seen. Her eyes
expanded with awe of the supernatural. "It was the Blessed
Friedmund," said Eberhard. "Never hath he so greeted one of our race
since the pious Freiherrinn Hildegarde. Maiden, hast thou brought us
back a blessing?"
"Ah! well may she be blessed--well may the saints stoop to greet
her," murmured Christina, with strangled voice, scarcely able to
control her sobs.
Father Norbert came towards them. The simple confession had been
heard, and he sought the aid of Christina in performing the last
rites of the Church.
"Maiden," he said to her, "thou hast done a great and blessed work,
such as many a priest might envy thee."
Eberhard was not excluded during the final services by which the soul
was to be dismissed from its earthly dwelling-place.
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