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thought of him who still remained in darkness and gloom, and the light to her eyes lost its beauty—the blessed sunshine its lustre.

"Caroline Mecklenburgh," said the baron, "tell me, was this Claudio secreted here? Your answer cannot make his situation worse. A compliance with my wishes may tend to alleviate his sufferings."

"I will not deny the truth," said Caroline. "Claudio and his servant Maurice, were for some time inhabitants of this turret."

"And invited by you?" thundered the baron.

"If so," replied Caroline, "it was not strange, that, when persecuted where I ought to have found protection, I implored of a stranger that aid which those who called themselves my friends, refused me."

" ‘Tis well," said the baron, in a tone of bitter irony. "You see the consequences of your call upon this chivalrous young gentleman for aid."

"Alas!" sobbed Caroline, "it is my evil destiny, to involve others in those misfortunes which I would gladly bear now all myself."

"Your repentance comes too late. Claudio shall never see the light of day again. His doom is sealed."

"Unless—" said Count Durlack, advancing.

"Aye, unless—" cried the baron.

"Unless what?" asked Caroline. "And yet, I may well guess."

"Unless you consent to become mine," said the count.

Caroline shuddered. A dreadful thought came across her brain that Euphoric might fail in rescuing Claudio. Might not she, then, at least

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save him at the dread sacrifice of her hand to the man who of all others she abhorred? The thought was too horrible,—and yet, what will not true love encounter for the one dear object? She thought that she could for Claudio even do that. "I should soon die then," she thought, "but he—he would be free."

"Will you be mine?" cried the count, in a tone of exultation, emboldened by her silence and agitation.

"Become the Countess of Durlack," said the baron, "and upon the instant, Claudio and his companion are restored to life and liberty."

Caroline sank sobbing into a chair.

Euphoric approached her, and bent over her, affecting to urge his master’s suit.

"Heaven direct me!" sobbed Caroline.

"What says she, Euphoric?" cried the baron.

"She desires three days," said Euphoric, "for consideration."

"Three days?" said the baron. "Sir Gaston will be here, probably, by then," in a whisper to the count.

"Offer two days, then," said Durlack.

"Two days, Caroline," cried the baron, sternly, "you shall have. If you decide not then, Claudio surely dies."

Caroline only sobbed.

"She accepts the condition," said Euphoric, affecting to listen to a whisper from Caroline, "provided I and Roland be sent immediately with food to Claudio’s dungeon."

"Be it so," said the baron, "Francisco, fetch some provisions. We will remain here, count, to see all safe."

Francisco left the turret, and soon returned with a tray of provisions.

"Now, Euphoric," said the count, "be quick."

Lighted by Roland, Euphoric proceeded down the steps with the tray, and Caroline felt her hopes somewhat restored at the thought that for a time, at least, Claudio would not have to suffer the pangs of hunger as well as confinement.

CHAPTER XL.

WHEN Euphoric and Roland got to the entrance of the vaulted passage, the latter turned towards the page and said, while a scowl, such as the face of a demon might have worn, darkened his brow,—

"Euphoric, cast the provisions down in the passage. Think you our masters intended to feed these men?"

"Yes, I do;" replied Euphoric, who was quite taken suddenly by this unexpected difficulty.

"Pshaw; nonsense;" cried Roland. "I tell you, Euphoric, I helped

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to starve a man once before in the same place. You saw his bones mouldering at the foot of one of the columns, Euphoric?"

"I did," answered Euphoric. "I hear he was called Montoni."

"He was," said Roland; "it was more a job of the Count Durlack’s than the baron’s. Come, come, Euphoric, cast down the provisions boy."

"But only think, Roland," said the page, "only think how elated they will be at fancying they are to be fed daily. They will consume this at once. Then they will expect more to-morrow. To-morrow will come but no food! Then they will begin to suspect. Hope will grow fainter and fainter. How they will pace their gloomy dungeons. The pangs of hunger will grow upon them. They will then flatter themselves that by some mere accident they may have been forgotten, and they will endeavour to prolong existence till the next day. Then how they will listen to every sound. Hope will become weak—weak, Roland. Despair will succeed. How they will shriek—rave—scream—ha! ha! ha! Oh yes, let them have the tray. Ha! ha! ha! They must have the provisions."

"By my soul," cried Roland; "you are a famous fellow, Euphoric. I didn’t think you had such a spirit. Let them have the tray by all means. Upon my soul it’s fine, I should never have thought of all that."

"Don’t you see," continued Euphoric, "if you let them think from the first they are to be starved to death it is but one pang, and the worst agony is over."

"Capital," cried Roland; "you are a clever fellow, Euphoric."

"Hope should expire slowly, Roland, not receive at once a death blow. Little by little the mind should be forced to admit despair. Engulf it at once, and you crush both thought and sensibility."

"Upon my soul you are a treasure," said Roland. "I shall love you for ever, Euphoric. You beat the baron and the count out of the field. Here we are at the dungeon door—give me the tray."

"I’ll take it in, Roland," said Euphoric; "I’ll tell them, ha! ha! I’ll tell them to eat hearty and make themselves happy."

"I’d embrace you," said Roland in an extacy; "but I should upset the tray. Go in—go in with you. Ha! ha! ha! Tell them it’s a fine day."

"Trust me I will," answered Euphoric.

Roland withdrew the massive bolts of the door, and pressing upon the spring, it opened immediately.

"By the devil," said Roland; "they have got a light."

"Have they?" said Euphoric.

"Yes. Don’t you see it glimmering upon the wall, and the skeleton of that Montoni I mentioned to you?"

"Aye," said Euphoric; "now you mention the skeleton I see it."

"Upon my soul they must not have that light," cried Roland.

"Not have a light?" said the page. "Why, my good friend, it is the very thing of all others they aught to have."

"The devil they aught, master page; I don’t see that at all."

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"Why, only think, Roland," said Euphoric; "only think of the agony of seeing that light go out by degrees!"

"Humph!" said Roland.

"How they will watch it," continued Euphoric; "how they will hang about its expiring beams. Then they will trim it and tend it. For a moment it will burn clear—then dim—then clear again—then out for ever. Ha! ha! ha! rare sport. That lamp will be hours of agony. How they will groan when its last flickering beams has [sic] departed. The extinction of that small light, will be the extinction of hope. Yes—yes—the lamp’s the thing—the lamp’s the thing. By my soul I would have brought them a lamp!"

"Euphoric," cried Roland; "I’m a damnation fool compared with you; I am indeed. Go in with you—you’re a regular little devil. I’ll do anything in the world for you, Euphoric; indeed I would. Do you want six inches of cold steel stuck between anybody’s ribs? Say the word if you do."

"Yes I do," answered Euphoric.

"Who is it? curse me, who is it?"

"Why, I understand there were three of them," said Euphoric.

"Well, they can be settled one at a time you know, Euphoric," said Roland; "I’ll give you a helping hand if they come in my way, hang me if I don’t."

"I thank you," answered the page; "I’m afraid it would be a trouble to you. I’ve made arrangements to manage the matter myself."

"Now to show you, Euphoric, that I really love you," said Roland; "just push the door shut and I’ll tell you how to do the job neatly and satisfactorily."

"I attend," said Euphoric.

"You see this?" said Roland, drawing a concealed dagger from his breast.

Euphoric took the weapon in his hand.

"I have heard of these before," he said; "this is a glass blade?"

"It is," said Roland; "they are the finest things for—for—"

"For assassinations?"

"Yes—yes—it’s called that."

"Is it not a fragile weapon, Roland?"

"Not at all in a fair hand. You use it this way, Euphoric, and death is certain. Strike with it upwards, and then by a sudden turn of the hand, break the blade in the body. No art can ever extract that broken piece of glass. The flesh commonly closes over it."

"And the man surely dies?" said Euphoric.

"Surely," answered Roland.

"You will give me this one?"

"I will, Euphoric."

"Thank you."

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"You will think of me when you use it, Euphoric?"

"I cannot fail to do so, Roland. I deeply thank you for your gift. Strike upwards?"

"Yes, upwards, Euphoric; then break the blade."

"And the man dies?"

"A lingering death, Euphoric, in many cases."

"I would have it so," said the page, with intense bitterness; "I thank you Roland. Now for the dungeon."

Roland opened again the dungeon door, and Euphoric passed in with the tray of provisions.

"Who is there?" cried Claudio.

" ‘Tis I and Roland," answered Euphoric, who was apprehensive that Claudio seeing him alone, would betray, by some incautious word, the good understanding that subsisted between them.

Claudio understood him in a moment, and replied—

"What new infliction have the emissaries of the Baron Zindorf come to inflict upon those who have the misfortune to be in his power?"

"You wrong the baron’s kindness," replied Euphoric aloud, and at the same time placing the tray on the dungeon floor. He then added in a whisper to Claudio—

"Be careful of your provisions; you will get no more. I may encounter difficulties in releasing you which may breed delay."

"How much we owe you," said Claudio in the same low tone. "Tell me, Euphoric, how fares it with Caroline?"

"Well!" answered Euphoric. "Hope for the best." Then raising his voice, in order that Roland might hear. "The baron allows you both light and food. Make yourselves merry."

With his fingers on his lips Euphoric walked back to the door of the dungeon.

"We have been a long time," said Roland.

"Let us hasten, then, to the turret chamber," said Euphoric.

Roland slammed the dungeon door, which shut with a loud noise, and he and the page proceeded back to the turret.

"So you assisted, Roland" said Euphoric, "in placing the—in placing Montoni in his dungeon?"

"Assisted?" cried Roland. "Yes, I did; but I thought you would have choked yourself, my little friend, in pronouncing his name. What a mouthful you made of it to be sure."

"Something," said Euphonic, "was, or seemed to be, in my throat at the moment. But tell me, Roland how it all happened; what had—what had this Montoni done to the count?"

"Why," replied Roland, " I don’t know that he had done much, but it’s rather a delicate affair to talk about; however, as I may truly say you are one of us, Euphoric, I don’t know that I shall do much harm in telling you."

"I should like to know the particulars," said Euphoric.

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"Well, this was it, then," continued Roland. "The Signor Montoni had some heavy claims against the government, and one day he got them settled by the assistance of the Count Durlack, who was his bosom friend, you must know, and they both set off together from the court, Montoni carrying with him a good stock of money that he had received from the royal treasury."

"Go on, go on," said Euphoric.

"Well, I am going on; but what’s the matter with you? You look as white as a sheet."

"Well," said the page, "so do you; it’s the light, I suppose."

"It may be like enough," said Roland. "Well, as I was saying, they set off together, as I have heard since, and the count was deep enough, about nightfall, to bring the Italian here to pass the night."

"And—and they then—" said Euphoric.

"Wait a bit and you shall hear. The count knew me before then, Euphoric, so just as he passed me on the great staircase, he whispered to me, ‘Wait here, Roland.’ In a little time he came to me and said—

" ‘Roland, the stranger I brought with me is one Montoni. He has sixty thousand crowns about him.’

"I knew what the count meant directly, and I said—

" ‘How is it to be done, and what’s my share?’ Ho! ho! ho! Then the count said—

" ‘Drug his wine, Roland. Ten thousand crowns shall be yours.’ "

"And you did?" said Euphoric.

"Of course," replied Roland. "The consequence was, that this Master Montoni lost all his money at play with the count and the baron, and then somehow the wine did not affect him sufficiently, and he got furious—perfectly mad."

"Oh, Heavens!" cried Euphoric.

"What do you mean?" said Roland.

"Mean?" said Euphoric. "What should I mean?"

"I’m d—d if I know," cried Roland, "and that was why I asked."

"Why, is it not enough to make any one say such, Roland, to hear of a man getting furious when he loses all his money at fair play?"

"Fair play!" said Roland. "Ho! ho! ho! Never mind. I was in the next room, a small closet rather than a room it was, and I heard this Montoni storming away at a great rate."

"Go on—go on," cried Euphoric.

"Well, then I heard the clash of swords, and the baron cried ‘Roland!’ so I opened the door, which was close behind Signor Montoni, and—Ho! ho! ho!"

"What?" cried Euphoric. "What did you do?"

"Well," said Roland, "Master Page, of all the passionate little fellows ever I knew you are the worst. One mustn’t even stop to laugh in telling you a good story. You are a strange fellow, Euphoric."

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"I wish to hear it all," said the page. "Go on, Roland; go on."

"Well, I just reached my hands out of the closet, and clutched hold of him by the back of his head, and jammed his neck in the doorway."

"God of Heaven!" cried Euphoric.

"Why, what’s the matter now?" said Roland.

"Nothing—nothing. Go on."

"Well, he knocked and plunged about, but I held the door close, and in a little time he lay pretty still, and the count called to me to come out."

"He was dead?" said Euphoric.

"No he wasn’t," replied Roland. "Not all dead I can tell you. The count had given him an ugly wound, and the door hadn’t done any good to his neck, but he wasn’t dead."

"What followed, Roland?"

"Why, the count he said, ‘Finish him, Roland;’ but the baron, you know, is tender-hearted, and he said—

" ‘Then, count, we shall have the body to dispose of. Let us take him as he is and put him in one of the vaults.’

" ‘Agreed,’ said the count.

"Well, with that we took him up and carried him to this very turret we are going to, and brought him into the dungeon where this Claudio is now confined."

"And he never recovered?" said Euphoric.

"Didn’t he?" replied Roland. "When I got him fairly into the dungeon he raved like a madman and shrieked and screamed, you might have heard him all over the castle."

A deep groan burst from Euphoric.

"Ah! you may well groan," said Roland. "I never knew a fellow make such a fuss before, and all his bother was about his family."

"What—what next?" said the page.

"Why, we fastened him to one of the columns—he lies at the foot of it now—and then we got out of the place as quickly as we could."

"And you saw him no more?"

"Never till to day, and that’s hardly to be called seeing him."

"No—no,’’ said Euphoric. "Those poor remains are not Montoni."

"We heard him though," said Roland.

"Heard him? How, Roland?"

"Why, all the next day—aye, and the next day after that, any one that went into the chapel could hear him screaming."

"Horrible! horrible! Oh God! oh God!" cried Euphoric.

"Well, who’d have thought you’d have cried a bit?" said Roland. "The baron didn’t like it; so, on the third day, he took me down with him and we regularly plastered up the door with clay and earth."

"And then you heard no more?"

"Yes we did. It was about midnight on the fourth night—that is the

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third after he had been put into the dungeon—that the baron came to my bedside, and he said to me, while I could see he was looking very pale and queer, for, as I tell you, he’s soft-hearted rather—

" ‘Get up, Roland, and follow me.’

"Well, I did. And he walked before me to the chapel."

"What then, Roland? What then?"

"When we got there, he took hold of my arm and said—

" ‘Roland, listen.’

"Well, I did listen, and after a little while, there came from below a kind of strange shriek, or a howl."

"It was—it was Montoni, still?" cried Euphoric.

"I think it was," continued Roland. "The baron, he wanted me to go down and settle him."

"You did?"

"No, I didn’t—I told him to go himself, and be damned."

"What next? Go on—go on."

"Why, I went to bed next, and there was an end of it."

"An end of it ?" repeated the page.

"Yes, an end of it," cried Roland. " What can you make of that? You are a clever little fellow, Euphoric; but I suspect you’d make a queer hand of actual work. Do you think you could really kill a man?"

"I am sure I could," cried Euphoric. "You—even you, Roland, shall one day confess as much. Kill a man?—aye, by Heaven I could!"

"There you go again," said Roland. "Ho! ho! ho! One minute you are all in a fury, and another you seem as if you would cry. You want experience, Euphoric, that’s what you want, my boy, and then you’ll do bravely. Mind you take care of the glass dagger."

"Be assured I will, Roland."

"Well, here we are at the trap-door, and I expert the baron and your master, the count, will be as savage as possible at the time we have been gone."

In a few moments more they were in the turret chamber.

"What has delayed you, Roland?" cried the baron.

"Nothing," said Roland, with an air of defiance.

The baron glanced at his follower, but it was evident he dared not give vent to his rage against a man in whose power he had placed himself by making him the agent of his enemies.

It is one of the bitterest penalties which the vicious pay for their crimes, that they are constantly at the mercy of the meanest creature who they have made instrumental in the accomplishment of their wickedness.

The Baron Zindorf was a slave in his own feudal castle—a slave to the meanest of his vassals, for they held his life in their keeping.

Long since the baron would have compassed the death of Roland, but his most unscrupulous villany made him of much use to a man whose career of crime was not yet over.