trusting to a suitor the happiness of a sweet flower
like this. Poor child! it is hard, though, that she must think no more
of him she loves so dearly. See! she is weeping even in her dreams. But
you have good reasons, no doubt. Young Carl is wild, perhaps, or drinks,
or gambles, eh? What! none of these? Perhaps he is wayward and
uncertain; and you fear that the honeyed words of courtship might turn
to bitter sayings in matrimony. They do, sometimes, eh, baron? By all
means guard her from such a fate as that. Poor, tender flower! Or who
knows, worse than that, baron! Hard words break no bones, they say, but
angry men are quick, and a blow is soon struck, eh?"

The goblin had drawn nearer and nearer, and laid his hand upon the
baron's arm, and the last words were literally hissed into his ears.

The baron's frame swayed to and fro under the violence of his emotion.
At last, with a cry of agony, he dashed his hands upon his forehead. The
veins were swollen up like thick cords, and his voice was almost
inarticulate in its unnatural hoarseness.

"Tortures! release me! Let me go, let me go and do something to forget
the past, or I shall go mad and die!"

He rushed out of the room and paced wildly down the corridor, the goblin
following him. At last, as they came near the outer door of the castle,
which opened of itself as they reached it, the spirit spoke:

"This way, baron, this way. I told you there was work for us to do
before morning, you know."

"Work!" exclaimed the baron, absently, passing his fingers through his
tangled hair; "oh! yes, work! the harder the better; anything to make me
forget."

The two stepped out into the court-yard, and the baron shivered, though,
as it seemed, unconsciously, at the breath of the frosty midnight air.
The snow lay deep on the ground, and the baron's heavy boots sank into
it with a crisp, crushing sound at every tread.

He was bareheaded, but seemed unconscious of the fact, and tramped on,
as if utterly indifferent to anything but his own thoughts. At last, as
a blast of the night wind, keener than ordinary, swept over him, he
seemed for the first time to feel the chill. His teeth chattered, and he
muttered, "Cold, very cold."

"Ay, baron," said the goblin, "it is cold even to us, who are healthy
and strong, and warmed with wine. Colder still, though, to those who are
hungry and half-naked, and have to sleep on the snow."

"Sleep? snow?" said the baron. "Who sleeps on the s