ything could move the stout old lord of
Klugenstein. And so, at last, with a heavy heart, the daughter saw the
castle gates close behind her, and found herself riding away in the
darkness surrounded by a knightly array of armed vassals and a brave
following of servants.

The old baron sat silent for many minutes after his daughter's
departure, and then he turned to his sad wife and said:

"Dame, our matters seem speeding fairly. It is full three months since I
sent the shrewd and handsome Count Detzin on his devilish mission to my
brother's daughter Constance. If he fail, we are not wholly safe; but if
he do succeed, no power can bar our girl from being Duchess e'en though
ill-fortune should decree she never should be Duke!"

"My heart is full of bodings, yet all may still be well."

"Tush, woman! Leave the owls to croak. To bed with ye, and dream of
Brandenburgh and grandeur!"

CHAPTER II. FESTIVITY AND TEARS

Six days after the occurrences related in the above chapter, the
brilliant capital of the Duchy of Brandenburgh was resplendent with
military pageantry, and noisy with the rejoicings of loyal multitudes;
for Conrad, the young heir to the crown, was come. The old Duke's heart
was full of happiness, for Conrad's handsome person and graceful bearing
had won his love at once. The great halls of the palace were thronged
with nobles, who welcomed Conrad bravely; and so bright and happy did
all things seem, that he felt his fears and sorrows passing away and
giving place to a comforting contentment.

But in a remote apartment of the palace a scene of a different nature
was transpiring. By a window stood the Duke's only child, the Lady
Constance. Her eyes were red and swollen, and full of tears. She was
alone. Presently she fell to weeping anew, and said aloud:

"The villain Detzin is gone--has fled the dukedom! I could not believe
it at first, but alas! it is too true. And I loved him so. I dared to
love him though I knew the Duke my father would never let me wed him. I
loved him--but now I hate him! With all my soul I hate him! Oh, what is
to become of me! I am lost, lost, lost! I shall go mad!"

CHAPTER III. THE PLOT THICKENS.

A few months drifted by. All men published the praises of the young
Conrad's government and extolled the wisdom of his judgments, the
mercifulness of his sentences, and the modesty with which he bore
himself in his great office. The old Duke soon gave everything into