he chose to do; and he lost no time in assuring the lady that he was hers for life and death, and firmly resolved never to set his foot in Neideck again, if she should think it necessary. As a proof of his sincerity, he leaped down from the rock and offered her his glove. "Well, then," said the lady, "I receive thee for my knight. Ever-flowing cups, successful huntings, and the open arms of everblooming maidens, await thee! Know that I am the Lady Venus. "There in the forest my castle lies,

And swifter my steed than the night-wind flies."

"She clasped hold of him, and mounted, along with him, a gigantic horse, with bat's wings, and a head like a cat, which was pawing the ground beside them. Swift as a tempest, they flew across the park towards the mountain, which opened and closed upon the steed and its riders. One of Fust's huntsmen, who had come up, and overheard at some distance the conversation between that temperate Knight and the Lady, brought the melancholy news to the castle. His sister, after having a colossal statue of her brother formed and placed above the entrance, died of grief. The fate of the lady and her infant daughter is not known. The older branches of the family of Neideck being extinct, by the death or disappearance of Fust, the estates came into the possession of the younger, from which I am descended. Once in every year, however, during the twelve holy nights, do the Knight and the Lady revisit the spot where they first met, and sometimes they even extend their call to the castle. And so ends the story."

"A thousand thanks, my dear uncle," cried Lisette, "a thousand thanks for your story; now I shall sleep more quietly-wild as Fust was, I am glad to hear he was not a murderous old ruffian, as I had heard. I thought every night I should see the door open, and some horrible figure come stalking in, with its face all over blood, and so on." "Oh no-no!" cried Rosalie; "I had no fear of that, for you know the maid said the spirit goes always directly to Eleonora's chamber, which it once inhabited." "Excellent," said old Neideck; "very authentic indeed, and from the correctness of this part of the story I think we may form a tolerable idea of the rest. Now, I tell you, that, according to the old tradition, the spectre goes directly to the old chamber in the second story, where the genealogical tree hangs; from thence, through the door in the tapestry, down the concealed stair, into the vaulted passage that branches out under the park, and opens opposite to the Venus Mountain. As for Eleonora's chamber, and all that part of the house, it is not easy to see how the ghost could have inhabited them, since they were only built about a century and a half ago. Good-night, my dear children-sleep quietly." The old Baron took his pipe, rung for John, and marched off towards his bed

room.

The party broke up, leaving Saalburg highly pleased with his success. Without requiring to lead the conversation to the point,

he had gained the information he wished. But in order to make sure of the localities, he resolved to reconnoitre the spot. As soon as midnight came, and the inhabitants of the castle were secure, some soundly sleeping, and others not daring to move, through terror, he set out, provided with his sword and a dark-lantern, towards the spot. He had scarcely traversed the passages which led to the place, and reached the chamber, when his attention was attracted by a hollow-sounding noise, sometimes broken by louder sounds, resembling the roaring of a tempest. Saalburg guessed at once that Schirmwald was taking this opportunity of practising his part against the following night. The noise came nearer. Sometimes it sounded like the tread of many heavy feet along the passage; then it would die away, and shortly again it re-commenced, as if a whole body of cavalry had been reviewed in the room below. At last it seemed to enter the room. Saalburg extinguished his lantern, and bent down in a corner till the impostor should pass. The figure, such as he could distinguish it by the dim glimmer of the snow-light from without, was Schirmwald's. The figure passed, and in a few minutes all was quiet. Saalburg rose from his hiding-place, and moved lightly and cautiously back to his room. As he passed the window of the staircase, to enter his room, he saw a light in the Secretary's apartment, opposite. "Aye," said he to himself, "we have both got home at the same moment."

The next morning was new-year's-day. With a feeling of deep anxiety and impatience for the issue, Saalburg rose. The morning slipped away in friendly meetings and congratulations.

Eleonora was indisposed, and did not appear at dinner. Schirmwald recited, with much emphasis, a poem of his own composition, in which he wished his patron, the Baron, and his whole family, all possible good fortune! Saalburg stood in astonishment at the composure of the traitor. The old Baron took the matter seriously-seemed much affected by the Secretary's effusion, and wished the whole party, Schirmwald included, many happy years, true friends, a good conscience, and every progress in the way of honour and good fortune. The nearer the important moment arrived, the heart of Saalburg beat more vehemently. They were summoned to tea, which was announced in Eleonora's chamber. She was reclining on a sofa, with considerable traces of indisposition in her countenance. No one, however, but Saalburg, seemed to mark her agitated appearance. The dark locks descending upon a face deadly pale, the dark silk dress fastened to the throat, as if for travelling, the thick shawl thrown negligently over her shoulders, convinced him that every thing was prepared for flight. "It is the last night in her father's house!" said he to himself, and it was fortunate that the imperfect light in the chamber concealed his agitation from Eleonora. He composed himself shortly, however, and approached, like the rest, to offer her his congratulations and

good wishes. "I thank you, I thank you," answered she with a faltering voice; my heart tells me I shall need them all."

The party separated early, to allow Eleonora to repose, after her illness. Saalburg flew to his chamber, buckled on his sword, took his lantern in his hand, and stepped gently towards the concealed staircase, determined to be first at his post.

When he entered the room, he looked eagerly around for the tapestry door leading to the stair, which he had unfortunately forgotten the day before to ascertain. His search was vain; the door was not to be found; and he found it would be necessary to wait till the door should be opened by the fugitives themselves. The first stroke of twelve sounded, and Saalburg, couching down in his ambush, concealed the lantern behind him. In a few minutes the uproar of the preceding night recommenced, and a congregation of horrible noises announced the approach of the modern ghost. A pale feeble light shone dimly on two figures clothed in white. Saalburg took a pistol from his bosom, and cocked it. They passed across the room. Schirmwald pressed a spring in the wall, and a door flew open. At that instant Saalburg stretched out his arm to seize him. The slight noise occasioned by this movement alarmed the Secretary, who started back a few steps, and perceived Saalburg. "We are betrayed!" cried he, and fired his pistol at the Baron. Saalburg felt himself wounded, but without hesitating an instant, returned the fire. With a loud groan, the Secretary dropped, and a large quantity of gold pieces was scattered on the floor. Overcome by loss of blood, and the agitation of his feelings, the Baron also sunk senseless on the ground. He came to himself in a short time. Schirmwald's lamp was burning by his side. His first glance was in search of Eleonora, who still lay immoveable on the ground. He raised her in his arms, without bestowing a thought on Schirmwald, and taking the lantern in his hand, he carried her to her chamber. The door was open. Her maids were fortunately still asleep. She soon recovered her senses. Saalburg would willingly have declined answering the questions she was disposed to put to him at that time. "For Heaven's sake, Baron Saalburg," cried she, "one word only! Where is Schirmwald? What has happened to him?" "He fell by my hand," answered the Baron, reluctantly. "Impossible! it cannot be! you are mistaken! Did you not see the spectre that met us at the entrance of the tapestry door?" "I saw nobody." "The figure which drove me to a side, and as your ball whistled past my ear, seized on Schirmwald, dashed him down, and-" "My dear Eleonora, nothing of all this have I seen. Your overheated imagination has deceived you. Your pulse beats like lightning, your senses wander. Be calm, I beseech you." "Saalburg, say then at once, what do you know of the unfortunate Schirmwald?" "Only that he is a villain, an accomplished villain, whom I will unmask to-morrow."

With these words, he left the room, and flew towards John's

chamber, whom he found awake. "In God's name, Baron, what is the matter? You bleed. I heard a noise, but I did not dare to waken my master." "Quick, my good friend, quick! Bind my arm, and then awaken the Baron." Both commissions were executed immediately. "Ask no questions, my dear Neideck," cried the Baron to the old man; "my wound is nothing; time is precious, follow me quick. John, light us to the chamber in the second story. I will tell you all as we go."

The astonishment of the Baron, when he heard of Eleonora's preservation, and the Secretary's villany, was inexpressible They came to the spot, but Schirm wald was gone. No traces of blood appeared, notwithstanding the dangerous wound, which, from his groans, Saalburg concluded he had received. Nothing was to be seen but Eleonora's casket, which lay on the ground, and the gold which was scattered about the room. The door they could not find. Saalburg knew not what to think of the matter. One thing, however, was clear, that he had not to answer for the Secretary's death.

Early next morning, Heubach, the woodman, appeared to claim his reward. He received the stipulated sum, after confessing, in the presence of the Baron and old John, the whole of his connexion with the Secretary.

On looking over the forest-accounts, the sum which had been found scattered about the room the night before was ascertained to be wanting.

Neideck went to his daughter's apartment, determined for once to tell her, without hesitation or disguise, the extent of her error; but he found it unnecessary. Full of shame and repentance, she threw herself at her father's feet, and begged that he would allow her to retire into a convent. Neideck endeavoured to calm the enthusiast, and then proceeded to acquaint her with Heubach's disclosures, from which Schirmwald appeared in his true colours. Her confusion and remorse were indescribable. With tears of the deepest anguish, she threw herself on her father's neck, who thanked God that his daughter was now again restored to him. Saalburg's wound, and the delicacy which had induced him for some time to leave the castle, affected her deeply.

About three months afterwards, she requested her father to summon Saalburg to the castle. He flew thither immediately, on the wings of hope. Eleonora had laid aside all her affectation. "Saalburg," said she, with a gentle blush, as he entered, "you know that I have loved; but I have expelled from my heart the traitor who robbed me of those feelings which ought to have been yours. If my heart has still any value in your eyes, take it with this hand, and with it my warmest esteem-my tenderest affection!"

Saalburg kissed the offered hand with delight. "Eleonora," said he, "Fortune has lowered on me once; now I can bid defi ance to her frowns." And he pressed her to his heart.