rangler of
Finland," the man who, in four years, had reduced a prosperous country
to a state of ruin and revolt!

"Cannot I see her?" I asked, feeling that we had remained too long
there. If my presence in that place was perilous the sooner I escaped
from it the better.

"Yes, come," she said. "But silence! Walk softly," and holding up the
old horn lantern to give me light, she led me out into the low stone
corridor again, conducting me through a number of intricate passages,
all bare and gloomy, the stones worn hollow by the feet of ages. On we
crept noiselessly past a number of low arched doors studded with big
nails in the style of generations ago, then turning suddenly at right
angles, I saw that we were in a kind of _cul de sac,_ before the door of
which at the end she stopped and placed her finger upon her lips. Then,
motioning me to remain there, she entered, closing the door after her,
and leaving me in the pitch darkness.

I strained my ears, but could hear no sound save that of someone moving
within. No word was uttered, or if so, it was whispered so low that it
did not reach me. For nearly five minutes I waited in impatience
outside that closed door, until again the handle turned and my
conductress beckoned me in silence within.

I stepped into a small, square chamber, the floor of which was carpeted,
and where, suspended high above, was a lamp that shed but a faint light
over the barely-furnished place. It seemed to me to be a kind of
sitting-room, with a plain deal table and a couple of chairs, but there
was no stove, and the place looked chill and comfortless. Beyond was
another smaller room into which the old nun disappeared for a moment;
then she came forth leading a strange wan little figure in a gray gown,
a figure whose face was the most perfect and most lovely I had ever
seen. Her wealth of chestnut hair fell disheveled about her shoulders,
and as her hands were clasped before her she looked straight at me in
surprise as she was led towards me.

She walked but feebly, and her countenance was deathly pale. Her dress,
as she came beneath the lamp, was, I saw, coarse, yet clean, and her
beautiful, regular features, which in her photograph had held me in such
fascination, were even more sweet and more matchless than I had believed
them to be. I stood before her dumbfounded in admiration.

In silence she bowed gracefully, and then looked at me with
astonishment, apparently wondering what I, a perfe