Then came the tumult, and she fled involuntarily behind the altar.  When it grew quiet again, she drew a deep breath, adjusted her apron, gently stroked back a lock of hair that had fallen over on her brow, and took courage.  She was anxious to see how she could make her way back to the Oberhof unnoticed and get rid of the disagreeable clothes.  With short steps and eyes cast down she walked along a side passage toward the door.

Having finally awakened from his dreams, the Hunter was descending the stairs.  He too was anxious to quit the church, but where to go he did not know.  His heart throbbed when he saw Lisbeth; she lifted her eyes and stood still, shy and artless.  Then, without looking at each other, they went in silence to the door, and the Hunter laid his hand on the latch to open it.

“It is locked!” he cried in a tone of delight, as if the best luck in the world had befallen him.  “We are locked in the church!”

“Locked in?” she said, filled with sweet horror.

“Why does that cause you dismay?  Where can one possibly have better quarters than in a church?” he said soulfully.  He gently put his arm around her waist, and with his other hand grasped her hand.  Then he led her to a seat, gently forced her to sit down and himself sat down beside her.  She dropped her eyes and toyed with the ribbons on the gay-colored bodice she was wearing.

“This is a horrible dress, isn’t it?” she said scarce audibly after a long silence.

“Oh!” he cried, “I hadn’t been looking at the dress!” He seized both of her hands, pressed them violently to his breast, and then lifted her from the pew.  “I cannot bear to sit so still.—­Let’s take a look at the church!” he cried.

“Probably there is not much here worth seeing,” she replied trembling.

But his strong arms had already surrounded, lifted, and borne her to the altar.  There he let her down; she lay half-fainting against his breast.

“Lisbeth!” he stammered his voice choking with love.  “My only love!  Forgive me!  Will you be my wife?—­my eternal, sweet wife?”

She did not answer.  Her heart was throbbing against his.  Her tears were flowing on his breast.  Now he raised her head, and their lips met.  For a long, long time they held them together.

Then he gently drew her down to her knees beside him, and both raised their hands in prayer before the altar.  They could give voice to nothing save, “Father!  Dear Father in Heaven!” And that they did not tire of repeating in voices trembling with bliss.  They said it as confidingly as if the Father whom they meant were offering them His hand.

Finally the prayer died out and they both silently laid their faces on the altar-cloth.

Thus united they continued for some time to kneel in the church, and neither made a sound.  Suddenly they felt their hands lightly touched and looked up.  The Pastor was standing between them with a shining face, and holding his hands on their heads in blessing.  By chance he had entered the church once more from the vestry and, touched and amazed, had witnessed the betrothal which had been consummated here apart from the wedding in the presence of God.  He, too, said no word, but his eyes spoke.  He drew the youth and the girl to his breast, and pressed his favorites affectionately to him.