the cause of his death."

"Nonsense; come, come! In a moment of passion?" (here he made the
gesture of a man who horse-whips another). "I did so more than once,
but that does not kill a man--and you will not have murdered him."

"Nevertheless, I was the cause of the brave fellow's death. It occurred
during a carriage drive. We had sold the beautiful greys----"

"What! that splendid pair. My poor father!"

"We had a new horse which we wished to run with the only one left
us. Harry wanted to try them himself for the first time, but I took
it into my head I would drive them. I got on the box by his side,
seized the reins, and, as soon as we were on a piece of level road,
they went like the wind. I was proud of my skill, and was rejoicing
in my triumph; but still Harry shook his head, and recommended me
to be prudent. The sky became clouded, and a thunderstorm threatened
us. In my folly, I urged the horses on still faster, though they were
already taking the bits between their teeth. Harry became alarmed,
and tried to take the reins out of my hands; but I resisted, and
would not give them up. In an instant the thunder began to roll,
and lightning struck right across our way; the horses took fright and
began to rear on their hind-legs. Blount jumped off the box to go to
their heads, but tripped, and they passed over his body. In despair,
I also jumped from the box at the risk of my life, and the violence
of the shock caused me to swoon. When I was again conscious, I saw
the unfortunate Blount lying on the road, crushed, with scarcely a
breath of life left in him. Within an hour he was a corpse."

Here Francis burst into tears, and covered her face.

"It is a pity, Francis, a great pity," replied Rudolf. "For your
sake, I would that I had been the victim of this accident rather than
Blount. You would have had one burden less to bear. Don't take it so
to heart, my child. I have seen others fall from their horses never
to rise again alive. What can we do? Wait till our turn comes, and
not make life miserable by thinking too much about it. But," said he,
"you have not yet told me where I am to sleep. Must I go back to the
ruin? It is a cold place, and doubly so when I think of the parental
castle close by."

"The truth is, I cannot offer you a room, Rudolf. There is not one
suitable for the purpose."

"But why cannot Rudolf share mine?" I asked; "I will give up my bed
to him."

"No," he replied quickly; "I will be con