n quite another direction. The king is dead, my father a
prisoner if he be not saved by scarcely less than a miracle, and during
this very night will this palace be stormed as though it were a strong
hold of the Danes. Therefore hasten, for our moments are counted!'

Wringing her hands, and followed by the weeping Magdalena, the
governess retired.

'Will you not also save your father's papers and valuables?' asked
Arwed. 'The hands which will rummage here will be none of the purest.'

'No!' answered Georgina after some reflection. 'Let the commissioners
do that for which they may be able to answer to God and their own
honor. I will not venture to touch my father's property. Besides, I am
too proud to take any thing with me out of Sweden which might be
claimed as the property of the state. Hasten you, now, to the rescue of
my beloved father. He was to proceed through Westgothland and to pass
by Stroemstadt. I can give you no more precise information of his
route.'

'Let me first accompany you to your asylum,' said Arwed. 'Before that,
I cannot leave you in peace.'

'God knows how great a consolation your attendance upon me would be,'
answered Georgina: 'but the question now is not of my consolation or
your peace, dear Arwed,--but of my father's rescue. An hour's delay may
be death to him. Therefore go at once, Arwed, fly, save, and there is
no reward which you may not demand of me in exchange for the life of my
beloved parent.'

Saying this, she threw her white arms about his neck, printed a fervent
kiss upon his lips, and gently thrust him out of the door.

CHAPTER XIII.

The wearied Arwed pushed the little gothlander, which he had purchased
at the Rakalse inn instead of his overridden Norman, into a smart trot
upon the high road to Stroemstadt. The rider was almost exhausted, but
his determined spirit, animated by love and generosity, impelled the
obedient body to renewed exertions of its diminishing powers. At length
lie caught a glance of a fast rolling carriage, relieved against the
border of a snow-clad forest. 'Now is the crisis!' cried he, burying
his spurs so unmercifully in his horse's flanks that he flew with him
in furious career over the frozen ground. After a hard ride of a
quarter of an hour he overtook the carriage. In it sat baron Goertz,
wrapped in a fur cloak, and so attentively reading some papers that he
did not perceive the approaching horseman. 'I bless