233

"In order," replied the baron, struggling hard with his own nervousness, "that your repose, henceforward, shall be the sweeter."

Caroline was determined that the baron should not perceive the state of apprehension she was in; an apprehension which arose in her mind in consequence of the nature of her danger being hidden, for Caroline had a mind which could face any apparent and open difficulty. Uncertainty and doubt caused her to tremble.

"The hour," she said, "is unsuitable for lengthened conversation or courtly compliments. At once, Baron Zindorf, say why I am thus disturbed at this dead hour of the night, when, at least, I might calculate upon being left to the undisturbed possession of my chamber?"

"Let this night," said the baron, "be no longer a night of solitude, but of joy and bliss."

"I understand you not," said Caroline, much alarmed at his manner.

"The chapel of Zindorf Castle," he continued, "blazes with light."

"Well, baron?"

"The priest stands by the altar."

"What then?"

"The incense burns in the sacred urns."

"You speak, baron, in riddles."

"The bridegroom is waiting."

"What bridegroom?" said Caroline, the dreadful truth of the meaning

234

of all that the baron was saying flashing like lightning across her mind.

"Joy," continued the baron, "is in every face. Hope in every heart."

"Speak plainer," gasped Caroline.

"The Count Durlack�"

"I knew it,�my heart told me."

"Your presence," continued the baron, talking rapidly, "your presence is alone wanted to complete the magic of the scene. The lover waits,�the priest is ready. Come, Caroline Mecklenburgh, Heaven itself points out to you the path of joy and duty. Come, quickly come. Your aunt will be there."

The baron had hoped, that by taking Caroline thus by surprise, her mind would be bewildered, and that she would be carried away by her imagination, and not have time to think upon the consequences of her acts. Such however, was not the case. Now that Caroline was fully possessed of the real object of the baron�s mysterious midnight visit, her presence of mind at once was fully equal to the emergency.

"I will not," she said, firmly, "affect to misunderstand your purpose, baron. You would force me into a marriage with the Count Durlack?"

"Not force you," said the baron. "Your own heart will tell you how to reward so devoted and disinterested a lover as the count."

"Hear me, Baron," cried Caroline, "you have power over me in common with all in this prison-house, to a certain extent, but no further. You can imprison me. You can break in upon my privacy at pleasure. You can subject me to insult. You can take my life. But, thank Heaven, over my mind you can have no control, nor can your utmost power. No, no, the powers of a hundred such as thee, force one word from my lips but what my heart dictates."

"Foolish girl!" cried the baron, "know you what you reject?"

"I do," answered Caroline, "I reject dishonour;�degradation;�virtue, I reject,�even Heaven I reject, if I wed the Count Durlack."

"This is folly�madness!"

"You may force me to your chapel, Baron Zindorf; as you have superior strength, I must submit, but your power extends no further."

"Do you know your danger?" cried the baron.

"Perhaps not, fully," answered Caroline; "but I know my own heart, and-it shall be torn from my bosom, rather than it should tell me I must call the Count Durlack husband."

"Know you not," cried the baron, his face flushing with rage, "that the Count, in this castle, has a power unlimited?"

"I know no such thing," cried Caroline. "Power is given to the powerful only by those who submit to its exercise. Deny it, and it vanishes like an airy phantom of the imagination."

"Is it not power to bend the most stubborn to our purpose?"

"Yes," answered Caroline, "when they will be bent. All else is mere

235

revenge for bitter disappointment. No, baron, you and Count Durlack have but little power over me. You may revenge yourselves upon me because I will not give you power, but that is all you can do."

"Damnation!" cried the baron, "you mouth it bravely, and your speech is plain. Hear me, therefore, tell you, in language less ambiguous, than may, probably, be flattering to your delicacy, that, unless you wed the Count Durlack, a fate awaits you, which even you must tremble at."

"God help me!" said Caroline.

"You shall be degraded far below the meanest menial in the castle," cried the baron. "The finger of scorn shall be pointed at the high souled, dauntless Caroline Mecklenburgh."

"Degradation," said Caroline, "must be self-inflicted. Heaven has given no power to one creature to degrade another."

"Ha! think you so?"

"As I live, I do! Baron Zindorf, here before high Heaven, I swear that I will suffer death rather than become the wife of Count Durlack!"

"Worse than death! worse than death!" shouted the baron; "shall you suffer! You are hurrying to your own destruction."

"You have heard my determination," said Caroline. "Heaven grant me strength to keep it inviolate."

"To the chapel," roared the baron, who had worked himself up to an ungovernable fury. "To the chapel."

"Force alone shall drag me there," said Caroline. "I will not sanction by even a ready compliance with your power to force me the desecration of that holy spot, by my presence with you and your partner in guilt! the most detestable ruffian who ever lived."

"Dare you apply these epithets to my honoured friend?"

"I dare! I do apply them, Baron Zindorf. The child of Mecklenburgh may well be permitted to call Count Durlack a heartless villain!"

"You will bitterly repent this untamed spirit," said the baron.

"Never!" cried Caroline!�"As Heaven is my judge!�Never! My heart is full, and my tongue gives but feeble utterance to its dictates."

"To the chapel," cried the baron, impatiently, laying a hand upon her arm.

"Forsake this mad enterprise, Baron Zindorf," cried Caroline; "it will not succeed, and may prove your ruin."

"Psha!" cried the baron; "ruin is already at my gates."

"Say you so?�Then do not aggravate your fate by adding other crimes to the list, which must, and will come in judgment against you!"

"You speak in vain," said the baron; "this is a time for action, not for retrospection. To the chapel!"

"Drag me not there!�Stain not your soul by such a desecration!"

"To the chapel!" he cried. "Hell�s furies! must I summon those to force you, who will do so with no gentle hands?"

For an instant Caroline was in the mind to call aloud for Claudio, but

236

again her dread of involving him in destruction, prevailed even over her own fears, and with a rare and generous self-denial, she refrained.

The baron seized her by the arm, and dragged her to the ante-room.

"Resistance is in vain," he cried, loudly. "To the chapel!�to the chapel!"

A dull heavy sound, as of the slamming of a door, at this moment sounded from the turret stairs.

The baron relaxed his hold of Caroline, and his face became of an ashy paleness.

"It is the hour," said Caroline, "when we are told that the shades of the departed have power to wander through space; tremble Baron Zindorf! tremble!"

Caroline was well aware that the baron was peculiarly obnoxious to superstitious fears, and she thought that there might still be a chance of driving him from his purpose, by alarming his imagination.

"What noise was that?" he said, faintly.

"Let your own conscience translate it," said Caroline. "I have heard strange noises in this castle, and seen strange sights!"

"It came from the turret," said the baron.

Apparently with a strong effort, conquering his momentary fear, the baron approached the open panel, and listened attentively.

"By Heaven�s!" he said, "there is some one in the turret-chamber!"

Caroline felt her heart sink within her as the baron spoke, and she had some difficulty to keep herself from fainting. A strong, feeling however, that now she was called upon for the safety of Claudio, to exert every facility, and fail not in presence of mind, pursued her, and she said:�

"The noise did come from the turret; I have heard it before."

"Ha!" cried the baron, drawing his sword.

"Yes," continued Caroline; "I have heard noises from there."

The baron seized the light, and stepped through the panel.

"Once," cried Caroline, rushing forward, and clinging to his dress with frantic eagerness, "once I explored it."

"As I will now do," cried the baron.

"Stay, yet a moment," continued Caroline.

"Wherefore?" said the baron; "my suspicions are aroused."

"Are your nerves well strung?" said Caroline; "have you no fears�no beating of the heart?"

"Wherefore should I," said the baron, recoiling from the turret stairs a step.

Hope sprung up in Caroline�s bosom, and she continued.

"Have you no fear? Can you look unflinchingly on a sight that might freeze the marrow in your bones?"

"What�what sight," said the baron, his lips quivering with agitation, and the light trembling in his hand.

"There is a table and a chair in that turret."

237

"Well."

"I heard a noise as it might be now in the dead hour of the night. I took my lamp and ascended the stairs."

"Go on; what saw you? Speak."

"Oh, horror! horror!"

"Speak, girl," cried the baron, retreating hastily from the panel. "What saw you that you now close your eyes, and the colour forsakes your cheeks at the bare remembrance of its horrors."

"A human form."

"A human form? What terrors was in that? By Heaven and hell, I will explore this turret ere I leave this chamber for the chapel."

"Stay yet a moment, baron," cried Caroline. "The form was that of a young and noble cavalier."

"What more!" he cried, again seizing the light.

" �Twas dreadful; but�"

"But what? Cease this mummery."

"The head was gone."

The baron positively reeled and sunk into a chair with a deep groan.

" �Tis, doubtless, there even now," said Caroline, willing to improve, as much as possible, upon the effect she had produced. "A body without a head! There was blood upon its breast. It�"

Cease�cease!" cried the baron, starting up. "Say no more�help! help!�lights! Lights! Roland, Francisco! lights!"

He rushed to the ante-room, and continued his cries.

In a few moments, Caroline heard with dismay the trampling of approaching feet, and two figures appeared at the ante-room door.

"Help!�oh, help!" cried the baron. "Count, I�I�am glad to see you�I�I�"

"What is the meaning of this alarm?" said Count Durlack, entering the apartment.

He was splendidly attired in a suit of crimson velvet, and he wore a glittering star upon his breast.

"The turret�the turret!" said the baron, shuddering.

"This," said Durlack, contemptuously, "is some idle clamour of a superstitious origin. I would not, baron, be so moved were all hell arrayed against me. Y our fears unman you quite. Is this the way (in a whisper) to carry out our enterprise? Shame on thy false heart, baron Zindorf."

"The turret above those stairs," said the baron, "contains a sight to make the warm blood congeal in the veins."

"Have you seen it?"

"No�but�"

"Roland," cried the count, without ceremony interrupting the baron, "bring your torch, and light me to the turret-chamber."

Caroline�s fears were all renewed at this threatened visit to the turret of the Count Durlack�s, and the colour forsook her cheeks.

238

"Ah!" cried the count, "lady, you change colour.�Baron, there is some mystery in all this, which we may as well at once unravel. Who told you of the horrors of this dreaded turret-chamber?"

"Caroline Mecklenburgh," said the baron, feeling half ashamed of his fears.

The count drew his sword.

"To the turret," he cried, "come, Roland. You and I will share the danger and the glory of this enterprise between us."

Caroline sank into a chair, and clasping her hands, she sat the picture of grief, as pale as a marble statue, waiting for the sounds of mortal strife which she fully expected to hear every minute from the turret.

Moment after moment passed slowly onwards, and nothing alarming occurred. Hope once more began to arise in Caroline�s heart. Claudio might have taken alarm, and fled to the trap-door for safety.

"Heaven grant," she thought, "that such may be the case."

In a few minutes the Count Durlack and Roland entered. There was a deeply disappointed look in the face of the former.

The baron looked at him inquiringly.

"There is nothing," said Durlack.

Caroline could with difficulty suppress a loud expression of her joy.

"Nothing?" said the baron.

"Nothing," repeated Durlack. "The turret is empty."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

FOR once, the sound of Durlack�s voice was most grateful to the ears of Caroline Mecklenburgh. No music could have come with a softer, sweeter influence upon her soul.

"The turret is empty," she repeated to her beating heart, " and Claudio is safe." Slowly the colour revisited her cheeks, and for a few moments she forgot the peril and precarious nature of her own situation, in a heartfelt thanksgiving to that Providence which had withdrawn her lover from such imminent danger.

The count walked up and down the apartment for a few moments in evident vexation, then approaching the baron, he whispered something energetically in his ear and left the apartment.

The baron rose, and approaching Caroline, he said, trying hard to assume his usual sternness of manner�

"Now, Caroline Mecklenburgh, are you prepared to accompany me to the chapel of the castle without vain and useless resistance?"

"I protest," said Caroline, most earnestly, "against this proceeding. You and the Count Durlack must well know that my consent to this mar-

239

riage can never be obtained. Drag me to the chapel you can, and may be brutal enough to do; but when there, my first act shall be to throw myself upon the protection of the priest, and proclaim my wrongs to every one within hearing."

"Come," cried the baron, "I will parley with thee no longer. To the chapel."

He grasped her tightly by the arm as he spoke, and hurried her forward.

Caroline did not resist further, for she saw that the looks of the brutal Roland were fixed upon her, and she dreaded being consigned to him if she persevered in a resistance, which must in the end prove useless.

"I submit to your violence," she said, "and put my trust in Heaven."

The baron, without another word, conducted her hurriedly along various corridors and suites of dilapidated apartments towards the castle chapel.

It seemed to Caroline as if the baron must be purposely taking her a circuitous rout, in order to bewilder and confuse her knowledge of the localities of the gloomy fortress, which she had been too short a time a free inhabitant of it to explore with any chance of remembering even its principal and most striking features and internal arrangements.

They passed many apartments, which betrayed the remains of former grandeur and magnificence; faded and torn hangings were pendant from the walls, which at one time, had, no doubt, been the pride of successful art. Massive pieces of furniture reposed in many of the rooms upon which the dust of ages seemed to have accumulated. At any other time these relics of former wealth and luxury would have afforded Caroline ample food for reflection and amusement, and would have cheated many an hour of its weariness.

Now, however, she cast but a passing glance upon these records of the annals of time, and endeavoured only to nerve her mind for the scene which she guesses was about to ensue beneath the sacred roof which was professedly reared for other purposes, than to look down upon the oppression and persecution of the innocent and virtuous.

They soon now arrived at a room which was of vast and gloomy proportions. The groined roof was lofty, and blackened with age, the windows were in several instances broken, and an universal air of devastation and neglect pervaded that old hall, which in happier and more hospitable times might have resounded with the song and the blithesome dance.

The baron, followed closely by Roland, who held a blazing torch, which threw a flickering and dancing light upon every object, conducted Caroline to the further end of this ruined hall. He took a key from his pocket, and unlocked a small door; a flight of narrow steps, upon which were the remains of a rich covering, presented themselves.

"Descend," said the baron.

Caroline felt that it would be useless to hesitate, and she passed without a word of remonstrance through the door way.

"Roland," said the baron, "go before, and announce our coming."

240

"This is an idle mockery," cried Caroline.

"Peace," cried the baron; "aggravate not your situation by your folly. You will find this is no idle mockery ; you come here to wed the Count Durlack. You depart not but as his bride."

"Then," said Caroline, "my stay will be eternal!"

"Forward!" cried the baron, impatiently.

Roland at this moment opened a small door at the foot or the staircase, and holding his blazing torch high in his hand, he stood awaiting the arrival of the baron and the devoted Caroline Mecklenburgh.

The baron tightened his grasp upon Caroline�s arm, as if he feared even then that the victim of his tyranny and oppression would escape him, and hurrying her down the remainder of the stairs, she in another moment found herself in the chapel of Zindorf Castle.

Roland stood by the door, and the baron, without relaxing his speed, dragged Caroline along the aisle, nor stopped till he had placed her exactly before the altar, upon which burned with a dim and sickly light, the tall candles which had been by the baron�s order so hastily lighted.

With a throbbing heart, Caroline gazed around her, and in that place once dedicated to holy purposes, she inwardly prayed to that Providence which is the guide and protector of the innocent and pure of heart, to protect her from those who sought to involve her in hopeless misery.

The greater part of the chapel was involved in darkness and obscurity, for there was no light but those on the altar, and they shed but a dim radiance around the spot on which they stood.

These observations Caroline made in a moment, and then she turned her attention to two figures that were standing close to her.

The one was Count Durlack, and, dim and uncertain as the light in which he stood was, Caroline could perceive with horror, that there was an air of sneering horror, which spoke no hope or comfort to the heart of the desolate girl, who was there dragged to be coerced, if possible, into the solemnization of nuptials from which she shrunk with the most sensitive and holy horror.

The other figure was that of a priest clad in the vestments of his order. His face was completely hidden in the folds of his cassock, and, for all the movement of life that he exhibited, he might have been taken for a statue.

"There must be," thought Caroline, "some hope of succour in the presence of this man. His sacred calling obliges him to succour the unfortunate. He cannot�he dare not become an instrument of oppression."

A dead silence of some few moments ensued, which none seemed inclined to break. Caroline waited as calmly as she could for the first step in the fearful drama which she knew would be attempted to be acted in that building reared to the worship of the true God.

"The baroness," said the baron, in a voice of anxiety, "where is she?"

"She is not here," answered the count. "In fact, �tis small courtesy of