In the mean time Christopher Friend came out of the street-door and
gazed tenderly on Althea.

"Poor lady!" he at last said with a voice of as much pity as he could
force into it--"No doubt you would go up to my father to implore him
for the life of your betrothed; or you have already been with him, and
received an unfavourable answer. Yes! I could have told you that
before. You would more easily move the lions of granite that rest upon
these columns than my father in this neck-breaking business. Would that
I were the reigning burgomaster in his place, to be able to serve you,
for I am not very angry with your Tausdorf. My late brother was an evil
man, who probably brought this affair upon himself; and it is a pity
that so brave a knight should, on his account, fall under the hands of
the executioner. I have, indeed, some influence with my father,
especially since I am his only son; and, if I were to run the risk of
his anger and put in a good word, I might at least, perhaps, gain you a
short delay, and time gained, all is gained."

"Comfort often comes from where it is least expected," stammered
Althea, looking at him with anxious doubt. "You, Mr. Christopher,--you
have a heart for my sorrows?"

"What man of my years would not have a heart for so fair a lady?"
replied Christopher, smiling; "but it is only death that can be had for
nothing; life is expensive. Time presses, and therefore I will open my
mind to you briefly. Herr Tausdorf is lost to you for ever; if his life
even should be saved,--which I hold for a half impossibility,--still he
would not get off without a long imprisonment and perpetual exile from
this country. Therefore give me your fair hand, for which I have
already sued without success, and I will try what influence I have over
my father's heart."

Althea started back in horror, and laid her right hand thoughtfully
upon her forehead, her left upon her poor heart, in which anguish was
working convulsively. But the inward struggle was soon over, and with
the calmness of resignation she turned towards her ungenerous wooer.

"It would, indeed, be hard for me," she said, "to follow a man who
makes a trade of his humanity, and to give this boy a father whom he
could not respect; still I would make even this sacrifice for him I
love, if I could believe that he would accept it. But I am convinced
that he would sooner die a thousand times than let me slowly pine away
under the tortures of a wretched m