e; but I had accepted all as the
will of Him above, and he knows my innocence of all dealings with the
powers of hell."

"Innocent!" cried the witchfinder in frightful agitation. "Were it
possible! And is it I, thy own child, who strikes the blow--I, who am
thy murderer--I, who, to avenge the mother, have condemned the mother to
the stake? Horrible! And yet those proofs--those fearful proofs!"

"Hear me, for my time is short now in this world," said the poor woman,
known by the name of Magdalena. "I will not tell thee how I listened to
the voice of the serpent, and how I fell. My pride in my fatal beauty
was my pitfall. All that the honied words of passion and persuasion
could effect was used to lure me on to my destruction--and at last I
fled with my seducer. I knew not then, I swear to thee, Karl--God knows
how bitterly it costs the mother to reveal her shame to her own son; but
bitter if it be, she accepts is as an expiation, and she will not
deceive him--I swear to thee, I knew not then that thy father had fallen
in that unhappy night, and had fallen by the hand of him whom I madly
followed. It was long after that the news reached me, and had nearly
driven me distracted. The same tale told me, but falsely, the death of
my first-born--my Karl. Remorse had long since tortured my heart. I was
not happy with the lover of my choice--I never had been happy with him;
but now the stings of my conscience became too strong to bear. Tormented
by my bitter self-reproaches, I decided upon quitting my seducer, who
had long proved cold and heartless. But I had borne him a child--a
daughter; and to quit my offspring, the only child left to me, was
agony; to take it with me, to bear it away to partake a life of poverty
and wretchedness, was still greater agony to the mother's mind. The
great man who was its father--for he was of noble rank, and highly
placed--when he found me determined to leave him and the world for
ever--and he saw me part from him, the heartless one, without
regret--offered to adopt my darling infant as his legitimate child; to
bring it up to all the honours, wealth, and consideration of the world;
to ensure it that earthly happiness the mother's heart yearned to give
it. But, as I have told thee, he was cold and worldly-minded, and he
exacted from me an oath--a cruel oath--that I never should own my child
again--that I never should address it as my offspring--that I never
should utter the word 'daughter,' never