he pair (we cannot say
happy pair) united in wedlock in the evening. As formerly, all were
assembled, and the priest was about to begin the ceremony, when the
lights went out, leaving the company standing in consternation. A dark
cloud, which had obscured the moon, passed away, and then her pale
rays partially lighted up the edifice. At this instant the bloody
figure appeared, walked forward to Stella, whispered in his ear, and
then vanished. So disconcerted were all parties that the marriage was
again delayed, and ultimately it was resolved, on the part of the lady
and her father, that the engagement should be broken off. Stella
became troubled, sleep forsook him, horrid sounds reached his ears in
the night, and the bloody apparition that had frightened him in the
church frequently appeared to his sight. The cause of the strange
sights and sounds was known to himself; those around were ignorant
whence they proceeded. All may be explained in a few words. Stella had
murdered the baron, and the bloody figure was his ghost. Disappointed
and humbled, Stella resolved to consult a noted witch, of whom he had
heard much. Arriving at her cottage, he handed her a purse of gold,
and promised her a greater reward if she would send to the lower world
the spirit that disturbed him. The old hag complied, received the
money, counted it, spat on it, put it into a weasel-skin purse, and
then into her pocket. With much ceremony she put a powder into the
fire, which caused a blue flame to arise. In its midst the living form
of the murdered baron appeared. The witch tried to reduce the spirit
to her power, but the task proved a difficult one, for more than once
it was nigh breaking through the circle she had formed. At last her
magic charms prevailed, and the spirit descended into the bowels of
the earth, exclaiming, "Murderer, we shall soon meet again." Stella's
mind was greatly disturbed; he drank deep to drown his care, but peace
was far from him. In company he was the gayest of the gay, but when
alone in the still hours of night he would groan and start in his
sleep, as if endeavouring to escape from some one. Already he seemed
to be enduring the torments of internal fire. Drink, drink, more
drink, he would call for, and then, mounting his horse, would ride ten
or twelve miles without knowing whither he was going. One day he rode
farther than usual, all the time his horse going at full speed, while
now and again he looked behind him as