so furrowed, so haggard. He gazed but an instant at his daughter;
then hid his face again, muttering but one word: "Margaret!"

"Father," said the maiden to Father Omehr, who now stood at her at her
pillow, "is Albert of Hers at home?"

The missionary nodded.

"Let him know that Margaret of Stramen, on her death-bed, entreated him
to fly here without a moment's delay."

Even the sound of that hated name produced no perceptible impression
upon the heart-broken baron. The Count Montfort, who had just entered
the room, suddenly exclaimed:

"I, myself, will deliver your message, my child, as quickly as horse can
speed."

Margaret endeavored to thank him, but, exhausted by excitement and
exertion, she fell back upon her pillow. The countess prudently led the
unresisting father from the room, and despatched Henry to administer to
his grief.

"I am changed," said Margaret to the missionary, as she recovered.

"God has changed you for Himself, my child," replied the old man,
struggling with the weakness of human nature, for he had known and loved
her from her infancy.

"I have hoped so, even in the recollection of my many sins, for His
mercy is infinite. May He uphold and strengthen my father, and teach him
to rejoice in the change he now deplores!"

The countess left the room, and once more the Lady Margaret opened her
soul to her first confessor.

The baron knelt all night beside his dying child. He watched her broken
slumbers, as if he feared each might be the last. A thousand sighs of
anguish and affection were given and returned before another day began
to dawn. How precious are the last hours of life! In our inability to
lengthen them, we strive to gather into them more feeling and action
than we could extract from as many years.

As the sun flashed out the Lady Margaret seemed animated with new
strength. Her father trembled at the suggestion--what if she should
recover! Thus hope feeds upon the wishes of the heart.

An hour before noon the Count Montfort, accompanied by Albert of Hers,
entered the apartment. Sir Albert, obeying a look which the maiden gave
him, advanced, and with much emotion pronounced the words, "My lady, I
am here!"

Sir Sandrit had anticipated all; nor did his son manifest the least
surprise. They both stood sorrowful and mute, nor did anger and disdain
appear in the features with which they were so familiar. Albert of Hers
saw, at a glance, the position in which he was placed.