etched at the foot of the rock, and the woman fainting in the arms
of the young man. Sperver, pale with concentrated rage and excitement,
and eyeing the young baron darkly, dropped the butt of his gun to the
ground, his features discomposed, and his eyes half-hid in his gloomy
frown.

"Seigneur de Bluderich," he cried, with his hand extended, "I have killed
my best friend to save the life of that unhappy woman, your mother! Thank
God that her life is bound up with that of the Count of Nideck! Take her
away! take her hence, and never let her return here again; if you do I
cannot answer for what old Sperver may be driven to do!"

Then, with a glance at the poor dog--

"Oh! Lieverle, Lieverle!" he cried, "was it to end thus? Come, Fritz, let
us go. I cannot stay here. I might do something that I should have to
repent of!"

And, laying hold of Fox by the mane, he was going to throw himself into
the saddle, but suddenly his feelings of distress overcame all restraint,
and bowing his head upon his horse's neck, he burst into sobs and tears,
and wept like a child.

CHAPTER XIII.

Sperver had gone, bearing the body of poor Lieverle in his cloak. I had
declined to follow; my sense of duty kept me by this unhappy woman, and I
could not leave her without violence to my own feelings.

Besides, I must confess I was curious to see a little more closely
this strange mysterious being, and therefore as soon as Sperver had
disappeared in the darkness of the glen I began to climb up to reach the
cavern.

There I beheld a strange sight.

Extended upon a large cloak of white fur lay the aged woman in a long and
ragged robe of purple, her fingers clutching her breast, a golden arrow
through her grey hair.

Never shall I forget the figure of this strange woman; her vulture-like
features distorted with the last agonies of death, her eyes set, her
gasping mouth, were fearful to look upon. Such might have been the
terrible Queen Fredegonde.

The baron, on his knees at her side, was trying to restore her to
animation; but I saw at a glance that the wretched creature was dying,
and it was not without a profound sense of pity that I took her by the
arm.

"Leave madame alone--don't touch her," cried the young man with
irritation.

"I am a surgeon, monseigneur."

He looked in silence at me for a moment, then rising, said--

"Pardon me, sir; pray forgive my hasty language."

He trembled with excitement, scarcely yet subdu