up my life, but it was too worthless a sacrifice: they demanded more, and I gave up my honour. Why Ishmael, did you preserve the one, since you could not redeem the other? As for you, Magdalene was yours in good report and in evil report, in life and in death, had you steeped your hand in murder she would have kissed it." He started upon his feet, and walked hurriedly away, then returning

66

Magdalene," he said, "you may think it harsh and cruel in me to disturb you in the midst of your grief; but the circumstances admit of no delay. There are two ladies at the farm who depart to-morrow for Mayence, after the obsequies of your husband; and under their protection it is intended that you travel. In the course of the journey there will no doubt arise some conversation on the circumstances of your life; and as my name, however woven up with your later history, is altogether unconnected with the fate of Ishmael, let me implore you not to utter the ill-starred sound at all. It would be vain-worse than vain-for I shall never see her more. Do you promise?

"Did you hear, Magdalene?" continued he, after a pause, "or are your senses still wholly absorbed by the spectacle before you?" and bending on one knee by her side, he raised, slowly and tenderly, the hood that covered her face.

"Gracious heaven, is this a dream? Ida Dallheimer!" They gazed at one another for some moments. At last Carl rose from his knee: he hesitated, then walked silently away.

"Benzel," said Ida, bursting into tears, "is it thus we meet and part?"

"We have not met," replied Carl, mournfully; "there is now a gulf between us which you will not, and which I dare not overleap. You see me here, and you have heard my words; the tale, therefore is told-told like the whisper of a dream, of which we only hear enough to make us shrink and shudder, although too little to allow us to understand why we do so.

"Your ransom is paid, and you leave this place tomorrow with Madame Dallheimer, for Mayence.

It

was my wish to have seen you before your departure: I had many things to say to you-my heart, indeed, was bursting with its fullness; but now I cannot remember a word."

"Try," said Ida in a broken voice; "let us not part

"It is impossible. Since I saw you last, my life has been like a dream, strange, wild and fantastic; and it is no wonder that the same visionary character should have been impressed upon my thoughts which pervaded even my actions. I reasoned upon shadows; I hoped absurdities; but this night has ended all. I now know my own position. Dead witness, my heart has received your evidence!"

"I witnessed the deed," said Ida, "and your brave and noble efforts to save him."

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They were but a debt," replied Carl. "I was in prison, surrounded by bayonets, and still more impassable walls; chained like a wild beast, and only waiting. for the light of another day to die. It was then that Ishmael, influenced partly by his own noble heart, and partly by the grateful and admirable Magdalene, held out his hand to save me. He took my place in the dungeon, locked my fetters on his own limbs, and bade me be free." Ida suddenly caught the dead man's hand in hers, and pressed her lips to it, with tears and sobs. Carl was agitated. He seemed about to rush towards her, but by a strong effort he resisted the impulse, and folding his arms tightly over his bosom, retired still further into the gloom.

"But all this would have been unavailing," continued he. "Wandering in the court of the prison, shut in by lofty walls, what could I have done? At that moment, the gentle, delicate, fair, and fragile Magdalene was at my side like a spirit; she led me by the hand as if I had been an infant, transported me through guards and gates and at length, through the energy of her woman's will, and the keenness of her woman's wit, I breathed the free air of heaven again." Ida was silent for some moments. It was a stranger who had been the delivering angel of her lover!

:

"Ishmael was free," said she at last, "you paid the debt ?"

"It is true," replied Carl. "I forgot that I was a citizen, and only remembered that I was a man?

"It was my first crime," continued he bitterly; " and even now the fetters are riveting and the axe sharpening for the outlaw Benzel."

"And will they kill you," exclaimed Ida, starting up and clasping her hands, "for such a deed? But how was it executed? who were your companions?"

"I accuse no one. She knelt down again by the side of the corpse, and leaned her face upon her hands. "And now, Ida," said Carl, "allow me to question in my turn. Why and how are you here!"

"I made my escape this evening," she replied, "by scaling the walls, with the intention of proceeding to Birkenfeld to visit one who was in prison there for my sake. I encountered him, however, riding through the gloom with a troop of banditti; and returning by yonder broken wall, I saw a cruel and cowardly murder perpetrated by his comrades."

"You scaled these walls, you set out alone and at night, to wander through a strange country, filled, as you well knew with desperate men--and all for me!

"Ida Dallheimer! I did not quite forget what I wished to say to you before parting. It was not so much want of memory, as want of courage that tied my tongue. When I consented to live, it was my intention, as soon as I had secured your liberty, to have asked you to have inquired-I say, to have endeavoured to discover-whether-" he stopped in agitation, gasping as if to recover breath.

"Whether I would consent, prompted Ida, "to become the wife-nay, that would be too high an honour, besides being out of character-whether I would consent to become the mistress of a robber!"

"I thank you, Ida," said Carl, bitterly; "that has restored me to composure. My intention was to have informed you that circumstances compelled me to absent myself from your society for a certain time; and to have asked you whether I might hope, if all was

well with me at the end of the period, to find your affection unchanged. This was one of my dreams: it was dissipated to-night by the sound of a pistol-shot.

"The remains of Ishmael will be cared for; they shall be watched by me-a service I owe to friendship and gratitude. Will you permit me in the meantime to show you the way to Madame Dallheimer's apartment ?"

"I will watch myself," said Ida, struggling with her

tears.

"It must not be. The night is cold, and you have need of rest; for your journey commences early in the morning. Your presence here, besides, is unknown to the inmates of the house, who are all in bed; and 1 cannot answer for the consequences, if they discovered that you witnessed the execution." He walked away, as he spoke, towards the door, and Ida followed him.

It was so dark, and the ground was so uneven, that she stumbled almost at every step; yet he did not offer his arm. They at length reached the passage which led to her own apartment.

"Farewell!" said he. He half held out his hand, but instantly withdrew it, as he saw that Ida's hung motionless by her side.

"Farewell!" he repeated.

life is ended.

Ida

"This episode in your Go rest-go sleep; and when you awake to-morrow, think that it was a dream!" remained confused and bewildered for a moment, endeavouring to consider what she ought to reply. When she raised her eyes again, he was gone. She flew to a window of the ruin, which looked into the court; and saw him gliding through the dark like a spirit. Her heart beat madly; her lips half unclosed; but still she hesitated.

"Benzel!" she at length almost shrieked. It was too late. He was gone.

CHAPTER VI.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THINKING AND ACTING.

Ida neither rested nor slept that night. When the first transports of Madame Dallheimer at the recovery of her daughter were over, she prudently recommended the wearied runaway to go to bed; declaring, with many tears, that she would no longer oppose a marriage which seemed to be ordained by heaven. She little knew the agony which this promise inflicted upon her to whom it was intended as a precious balsam. The mother only knew that Carl had escaped, and was wholly unacquainted with the impassable barrier which now existed against his union with Ida.

The reflections of the young lady, it may be supposed, as she lay on her uneasy bed, were of the most harassing nature.

At one time she bitterly regretted her delay in calling him back till it was too late for him to hear; and she even accused herself of irresolution for not endeavouring to find out the place again where she knew he would remain the whole night watching the dead. At another period in her meditations, she would imagine the circumstance to have been the most fortunate that could have occurred. Why had she wished him to return she inquired; what more could she say than had already been said? Would the word "farewell" from her lips, or the touch of her cold and trembling hand, have made the parting easier? Was not the omission rather a kindness even to him; cutting short at once any lingering hope, any boyish dream, that seemed even to the last moment to have clung about his heart?

"There was one part of her conduct, however, the thought of which pained and almost maddened her.