ome to her, we approached her with
fear and trembling. Still she was beautiful, very beautiful. She spoke
kindly to my brother and myself, patted our heads and caressed us; but
Marcella would not come near her; on the contrary, she slunk away, and
hid herself in the bed, and would not wait for the supper, which half an
hour before she had been so anxious for.

"My father, having put the horse into a close shed, soon returned, and
supper was placed upon the table. When it was over, my father requested
that the young lady would take possession of his bed, and he would
remain at the fire, and sit up with her father. After some hesitation
on her part, this arrangement was agreed to, and I and my brother crept
into the other bed with Marcella, for we had as yet always slept
together.

"But we could not sleep; there was something so unusual, not only in
seeing strange people, but in having those people sleep at the cottage,
that we were bewildered. As for poor little Marcella, she was quiet,
but I perceived that she trembled during the whole night, and sometimes
I thought that she was checking a sob. My father had brought out some
spirits, which he rarely used, and he and the strange hunter remained
drinking and talking before the fire. Our ears were ready to catch the
slightest whisper--so much was our curiosity excited.

"`You said you came from Transylvania?' observed my father.

"`Even so, Meinheer,' replied the hunter. `I was a serf to the noble
house of ---; my master would insist upon my surrendering up my fair
girl to his wishes: it ended in my giving him a few inches of my
hunting-knife.'

"`We are countrymen, and brothers in misfortune,' replied my father,
taking the huntsman's hand, and pressing it warmly.

"`Indeed! Are you then from that country?'

"`Yes; and I too have fled for my life. But mine is a melancholy tale.'

"`Your name?' inquired the hunter.

"`Krantz.'

"`What! Krantz of ---? I have heard your tale; you need not renew your
grief by repeating it now. Welcome, most welcome, Meinheer, and, I may
say, my worthy kinsman. I am your second cousin, Wilfred of Barnsdorf,'
cried the hunter, rising up and embracing my father.

"They filled their horn-mugs to the brim, and drank to one another after
the German fashion. The conversation was then carried on in a low tone;
all that we could collect from it was that our new relative and his
daughter were to take up their abode in our cot