at the spell was upon her: and this it was
that urged me to denounce that wretched hag."

"Speak, my child," said the Ober-Amtmann, in trouble and anxiety. "What
this man says, is it true? Hast thou suffered lately? Indeed, I do
remember thy cheek has been paler than of wont--thy appetite has left
thee--thou hast been no longer so cheerful or so active as of old.
Speak, my child--hast thou really suffered?"

"Oh, no! my father, I have not suffered," replied the agitated girl in
much confusion; "and yet I have not been as formerly I was. I have been
sad, I knew not why, and wept in the silence of my chamber without
cause; and I have found no pleasure in my embroidery, nor in my flowers,
nor in my falcons. I have felt my foot fall weary. I have sought to
rest, and yet, when reposing, I have felt unable to remain in quiet, and
I have longed for exercise abroad. But yet I have not suffered; and
sometimes I have even hugged with pleasure the trouble of my mind and
body."

"These seem, indeed, the symptoms of a deadly spell upon thee, my poor
child," exclaimed her father. "Such, they say, are the first evidences
of the working of those charms that witches breathe over their victims."

"And let the Fraulein Bertha tell," cried the witchfinder, "how it has
been yonder youth who has seemed to exercise this influence of ill upon
her."

Again Gottlob sought to spring forward and speak; but a sign from the
Ober-Amtmann to the guards caused them to place their pikes before him,
and arrest him in his impulse.

"How and what is this, my child?" said the Ober-Amtmann. "Knowest thou
that youth? and in what has he, consciously or unconsciously, done thee
ill?"

"He has done me no ill," replied the innocent girl in still greater
confusion, as her bosom heaved, and the blood suffused her cheeks. "I am
sure he would not do me ill for all the treasures of the world!"

"Thou knowest him then?" said her father, somewhat more sternly.

"No, I know him not," replied Bertha in trouble; "but I have met him
sometimes in my path, and I have seen him"--she hesitated for a moment,
and then added, with downcast eyes, "at his window, which overlooks our
garden."

"Why then this trouble, Bertha?" continued the Ober-Amtmann, in a tone
that rendered their conversation inaudible beyond their own immediate
circle.

"I cannot tell myself, my father. I feel troubled and sad, it is true;
and yet I know not why. I have no cause"----

"And when th