ed Heidenreich from the window;
and in spite of the horror that seized him at the news, Francis yet
felt himself irresistibly attracted to look on that which he dreaded.
Just then the old Onophrius was passing before the window. Free and
unfettered, he walked with calm confidence between the city soldiers
who accompanied him, while no marks of the fear of death were to be
seen upon his venerable, pale, cheerful countenance; and a garland of
white roses adorned his silver locks, which were fluttered by the
morning breeze.

Loud weeping was heard from the assembled people; even the iron Francis
sobbed bitterly. At this moment the old man lifted up his eyes and
maimed arm to him, and cried out with a strong voice, "I have forgiven
you all! Only make good as much as you are yet able, and you shall not
find me amongst your accusers before the judgment-seat of God." With
this he went on cheerfully to the place of execution, while Francis
howled and pressed his face against the iron grating of the window.

The sufferer's head had fallen. The noise of the people returning from
the burial, and the sudden silence of the bells, awoke Francis from his
mental lethargy. He looked up, and found himself alone.

"It was an evil hour!" he cried, rousing himself; "God be praised that
it is over.--How! not yet torture enough?" he added the instant after,
seeing Agatha, who just then closed the prison door behind her.

In deep mourning, with hollow eyes staring out of a pale, meagre
face;--in her hand the garland of white roses which her father had worn
on his last travel, she stood for a long time at the door, a
threatening Nemesis. She then glided nearer with a light step, and
planted herself close before the terrified Francis, whose hair began to
stand on end.

"My father is no more," she murmured in the tones of death. "I have
even now seen him to his final place of rest, and am come hither to
execute his last commission. He has been silent: he has died to save
you; and he has saved you that you may restore to his only child the
honour of which you robbed her by crafty seduction. In his last
farewell he said, 'I will believe that, with the best inclination,
Francis had it not in his power to rescue me; but let him take you home
as his wedded wife, which is his duty, and which he has promised me
with deep oaths: thus he will at least have made good as much as he was
able, and my shadow is reconciled.' Now, then, I am here to remind