d tell him that we found it in a spot from which we
had just seen the Lord of Hers depart.' He refused at first, and would
not touch the body, but by argument and entreaty, I prevailed upon him
to be guided by me.

"Sandrit of Stramen, you know the rest. You know that we swore to have
seen the Lord of Hers ride away from the fatal spot just before we found
the body. It was the fact; but my lover and I were perjured in the sight
of God. I do not wish to lighten my crime before men, when it is written
out so plainly against me before Angels. I was a perjured
woman--perjured through love and fear. I heard you swear vengeance. I
wept, but I was silent. I saw your fury and your wars. My heart bled,
but I was silent. There was no rest, no sleep, no peace for me. It was
not my husband's death that drove me mad. Oh, no! It was remorse. There
were spectres all around me--I trembled before the innocent, fled
before the guilty. The caresses of my child that died at my breast
tortured me. I felt as though my breath had withered and defiled it.
Every hour was full of misery--day and night there was a gnawing at my
heart. At last my mind gave way, and the justice of heaven struck him
with death and me with madness!"

Bertha paused an instant, quite exhausted, then again exerting herself,
she said:

"I do not ask you to forgive me--but forgive each other."

"They have forgiven each other already," said Father Omehr. "They are
friends."

"Friends?"

"The Lady Margaret reconciled them on her death-bed."

"The Lady Margaret dead!"

"She was buried this morning."

"Yes," said Bertha, "it was to her funeral I was going. Yes, she is
dead--the beautiful, the young, the innocent--she has been praying for
me in heaven."

At these words a smile beamed over her sharp features, and she sank
gradually back in bed, lowered by Henry and the missionary.

The proud Lord of Hers was, in spirit, in sackcloth and ashes. He
attributed the existence of the feud to his indiscretion and guilt, and
reproached himself with all its pernicious consequences. He saw in the
wreck before him the fruits of his sin; Bertha's misery and madness
seemed wholly his own unhallowed work. The strong man shuddered at the
consequences of his folly, and beat his breast, and wept like a child.

Sandrit of Stramen also accused himself of having caused the feud by his
rash credulity, and driven Bertha to perjury and insanity by his
impetuous and uncontrollable temp