would bear him. Then it was arranged
that the knight's first-born should be handed over to the care of an
old crone who lived in a remote tower of the castle.

One night this old woman awoke suddenly, and was terrified to see a
female form dressed in a flowing white robe, bending over the cradle
of the little boy, who slept near. The woman seemed to be tending
the child, and after blessing him, she vanished. The old woman crossed
herself, and in terror muttered many prayers. In the early morning she
hurried to her new mistress in great agitation and with white lips
told her of her strange visitor. Luckharde at first laughed in her
usual frivolous manner at this ridiculous ghost story, but soon she
became more serious and alarmed. Then she ordered the old woman to
arrange her bed beside the other servants, but still to leave the
child in the tower-chamber. A dreadful fear had taken possession of
Luckharde's guilty soul. Perhaps people were deceived when they
believed Wiltrud to be dead, and it was thus that she returned at
night to nurse her child.

Then this daring and sinful woman prepared a bed for herself in the
lonely tower beside the child. She also brought with her a formidable
dagger, and thus she awaited what the night might bring forth. At
midnight the female figure dressed in the flowing white robe appeared
once more. It approached the cradle of the child, tended him and
blessed him. Then the terror-stricken Luckharde stared motionless at
the apparition as it rose and approached her bed. Towering there above
her were the pallid features of the dead Wiltrud, and the lifeless
entreating eyes looked steadily at this sinful woman who had taken the
place of her benefactress. To Luckharde it seemed as if a great
precipice was slowly bending over to overwhelm her. With a last mad
effort the wretched woman seized the dagger, and struck at the
apparition; but she might as well have struck at a misty cloud. Now
Luckharde perceived that she was in the presence of the murdered lady
of the Fuerstenberg, and harrowed with the thought of her guilt she
seemed to hear a voice as if from another world saying, "Do penance
for thy sins."

Next morning Lambert waited in vain for his wife to appear. On looking
around however he noticed a piece of parchment. On it Luckharde had
confessed with deep sorrow, how she had murdered his first wife in
order to further her evil designs, and how the spirit of the dead had
appeared to her