nought save the prayers and the chanting of pious nuns, were
doomed to hear the whispered words of fierce passion and to witness
scenes that must for ever leave a stain upon their fair memory.

"Enough, our intrigue was discovered, and I was sentenced to death. I
was beheaded secretly, yet even blood could not wash out the foul stain
from my soul, and I have ever since been doomed to eternal pangs of
remorse."

"What!" I exclaimed, "and had your lover no knowledge of this?"

"He had, and furious at the news, he came by night and set fire to the
convent. The building was razed to the ground, and every nun perished."

"And your lover," I asked, "what became of him?"

"He died shortly afterwards. I was permitted to see his spirit but once,
and then he was torn away from me for ever. It is that which grieves me
most, for I know not what fate is reserved for him.

"Heaven grant that his state may be happier than mine. Oh, how willingly
would I bear the weight of all his sins, so that his portion might be in
the region of the blest. I would then bear my doom without a murmur,
even were my sufferings ten-fold."

"And with this charitable feeling towards the author of thy ruin, canst
thou possess a soul so black as to merit eternal punishment?" said I.

"Alas!" murmured the spirit, "when we die in mortal sin our doom is
sealed, yet I would fain hope still that before I quit this state of
purgatory and am consigned to eternal flames that the prayers of
others----"

"I understand; it was with that object, then, thou soughtest me--that I
might pray for thy soul?"

"It was," replied the spirit; "and also for my lover. Oh, let me not
pray in vain. Tell me thou wilt pray for me."

"Spirit," I answered, "I am not of thy creed. I am a Protestant. Our
church holds all prayers for the dead useless."

"I know it; but it is an error. Pray, nevertheless. Thou comest from
Rome, and wilt shortly return thither. Bid the pious monks and nuns
there pray for my soul, and for the soul of my lover."

"Spirit, thy request is granted, and if my own weak prayers may serve in
any way to relieve thy torments, they, too, shall be added."

A smile of the most ineffable sweetness and gratitude, more eloquent
than words, spread over the face of the decapitated. She pressed my hand
fervently with her pale, icy-cold fingers, and gradually faded from my
gaze.

When she had vanished, it was already daybreak. Sleep had deserted my
eyelids, and