er tomb, and laid her there.

Louis. Murdered? How? When? By whom? Oh, tell me I beseech thee!

Norna. Her husband's cruel hand took the life he had made a burden. I
heard him swear it ere he dealt the blow.

Louis. Wherefore did he kill her? Oh, answer quickly or I shall go mad
with grief and hate.

_Norna._ I can tell thee little. From my hiding-place I heard her vow
never to confess whose dagger had been found in her apartment, and her
jealous lord, in his wild anger, murdered her.

Louis. 'Twas mine. Would it had been sheathed in mine own breast ere it
had caused so dark a deed! Ah, Theresa, why did I leave thee to a fate
like this?

Norna. Young man, grieve not; it is too late to save, but there is left
to thee a better thing than grief.

Louis. Oh, what?

Norna. Revenge!

Louis. Thou art right. I'll weep no more. Give me thine aid, O mighty
wizard, and I will serve thee well.

Norna. Who art thou? The poor lady's lover?

Louis. Ah, no; far nearer and far deeper was the love I bore her, for I
am her brother.

Norna. Ha, that's well! Thou wilt join me, for I have made a vow to rest
not till that proud, sinful lord hath well atoned for this deep crime.
Spirits shall haunt him, and the darkest phantoms that my art can raise
shall scare his soul. Wilt thou join me in my work?

Louis. I will,--but stay! thou hast spoken of spirits. Dread sorceress,
is it in thy power to call them up?

Norna. It is. Wilt see my skill. Stand back while I call up a phantom
which thou canst not doubt.

[Louis _retires within the cave._ Norna _weaves a spell above
her caldron._

Norna. O spirit, from thy quiet tomb,
I bid thee hither through the gloom,
In winding-sheet, with bloody brow,
Rise up and hear our solemn vow.
I bid thee, with my magic power,
Tell the dark secret of that hour
When cruel hands, with blood and strife,
Closed the sad dream of thy young life.
Hither--appear before our eyes.
Pale spirit, I command thee _rise_.

[_Spirit of_ Theresa _rises._

Shadowy spirit, I charge thee well,
By my mystic art's most potent spell,
To haunt throughout his sinful life,
The mortal who once called thee wife.
At midnight hour glide round his bed,
And lay thy pale hand on his head.
Whisper wild words in his sleeping ear,
And chill his heart with a deadly fear.
Rise at his side in his