omes again! what if my ears should deceive me,
and this should be the answering bugle of my faithful Wildstein." The
thought infused some fresh vigour into him; the low night wind murmuring
through the trees, reminded him of the importance of every moment, Hans
and his master pushed onwards through brake and dell.

It will be necessary, however, that we should leave the Baron for
awhile, and detail some occurrences germane to our tale, and which are
necessary for its developement. And now as Mark Antony says, "Lend me
your ear."

Some years before the preceding events took place, there dwelt in a spot
of the most romantic description, a personage known by the designation
of Mynheer von Heidelberger. No one had either heard or could recollect
when or whence he came. Strange rumours were afloat respecting this
person, and the peasantry crossed themselves with fright if they were
led near the spot where his dwelling was said to be; and if his name
was casually mentioned in the circle round the winter's hearth, all
involuntarily drew their seats into a closer space. Impelled by
adventurous curiosity, many individuals were said to have visited him,
for the purpose of obtaining some insight into futurity; for his
knowledge of the future, and the "things that none may name," was
reputed to be great. It was also rumoured that some of his visitants
had never returned.

About this time, by the sudden death of her father, the Baron Ernest,
who was killed, it was believed, by a fall from his horse while hunting,
Agatha von Keilermann was left sole and undisputed heiress of his vast
domains. A prize so great, united to a fair person, caused many suitors
to be on the alert; but they all met with ill success, being generally
dismissed rather summarily.

Ambition was always the ruling passion of Rudolf Wurtzheim, whose
domains adjoined those of the Baron Ernest, and before the death of
the latter it had also been allied to jealousy of his great power and
wealth. Not daunted by the ill success of his predecessors, he became a
suitor of the fair Agatha. He met with a summary repulse. Burning with
rage and mortified ambition, the Baron bethought himself of Mynheer von
Heidelberger, of whose fame he had sometimes heard.

At the close of a day far advanced in autumn, he set off to visit this
being. The howling of the wind as it came in fitful gusts through the
openings of the forest, formed no bad accompaniment to his thoughts;
while