The dawn was only just beginning to glow when Erna awakened next morning; but Albrecht had already arisen, and was standing, fully dressed, by the bedside. She started up from her pillow and regarded him with surprise.

"Where art thou going?" she asked. "Surely thou wert not trying to steal away without my knowing?"

Albrecht bent over and kissed her fondly.

"I am going," he answered, in a tone of strange tenderness and solemnity, "to the chamber of Father Christopher. I was interrupted yesterday when I should have made confession."

"Come again quickly!" Erna cried, putting up her white arms to clasp them about her husband's neck.

He returned the embrace with passionate eagerness.

"How can I ever repay thee," he murmured, "for what thou givest me! But at least, sweetheart," he added, as he freed himself from her clinging arms, "I have at last learned what thou didst mean when thou didst reprove me for kissing the damsel in the hall; and henceforth I cannot care for the kisses of any save of thee only."

There was in Albrecht's mien something which was new to Erna, and which affected her profoundly. After he was gone she lay thinking of the grave, half-wondering expression of his handsome face. She felt some subtile change in him so strongly that it seemed as if the real alteration must be in herself. The jocund, sportive air with which he had always treated her, even since their betrothal, seemed to have given place to a tender and almost adoring manner which touched her deeply while it made her flush with pleasure.

Father Christopher was at his orisons when Albrecht presented himself at the door of his little chamber, high up in the western tower, from whose narrow windows the kindly and pious old man could see the first gleams of the morning sun, and the last fading glimmer of the dying day, and from which he could look far over the wild and haunted forest which stretched like a sea about the hill on which the castle stood. The priest rose from his knees and opened the door, the surprise he felt at the sight of the baron appearing undisguisedly in his face.

"Good morrow, Father," the knight said, advancing somewhat hesitatingly into the chamber.

"Good morrow, my son," the priest responded, regarding his visitor curiously. "Is it well with the countess?"

"All is well with her," answered Albrecht, gravely, and with something not unlike timidity appearing in his manner; "unless," he added with sudden vehemence, "it be not well that she hath wed with me."

The face of Father Christopher became instantly grave.

"Why dost thou say that?" he demanded almost fiercely, coming closer to the knight.

"Nay, Father," Albrecht said, meeting the eyes of the other with a deep and grave regard that did not falter, "I know not that it be not well, and I have not knowingly done her harm. Only," he continued, his tone changing suddenly into one of entreaty and profound emotion, "I cannot tell what I may have done. Bless me, Father, and I will tell thee all. I have sore need of thy guidance."

He fell on his knees as he spoke, and half mechanically the bewildered priest extended his hands in benediction. The baron remained kneeling for a moment in the attitude of prayer, though his lips did not move. Then he rose, and began to pace up and down the little chamber with long strides.

"Father," he said, "it is an awful thing to possess a soul. Had I known—"

The priest seated himself and watched his visitor with concern and curiosity. As Albrecht broke off and walked with eyes fixed upon the floor and brows knit, Father Christopher said aloud, although he was really speaking only to himself:

"How ill was it that that madman broke in upon us yesterday! I should not be in this painful uncertainty but for that unhappy chance which prevented thy confession."

"Father," the other replied, turning toward him, "it was not a chance. The man did but act a part that Herr von Zimmern taught him. It was done that I need not confess."

"What!" exclaimed the priest, springing to his feet. "Thou hast mocked at the holy sacrament! Thou wentest to the altar with a lie on thy lips; thou—"

"Wait!" Albrecht interrupted, with an air of noble authority which arrested his companion's words and even somewhat reassured him. "I have come to tell thee everything, and thou wilt see that I was innocent because I knew not what I did."

"How can that be?" Father Christopher responded. "Surely, that it is impiety to trifle with the sacraments is known to every man."

Albrecht paused in his agitated walk, and for a moment stood regarding the priest with a strange look.

"To every man, yes," at length he responded, "but not to me. I am a kobold."

The priest sprang to his feet with a cry of astonishment and horror. Like a flash came the remembrance of all the strange circumstances which attended the coming of the baron and his stay at Rittenberg. He grew pale with anger and dread.

"A kobold!" he cried. "One of the accursed, soulless race!"

"Soulless no longer," Albrecht murmured, bending his head as if against a storm.

"What hast thou done!" the priest continued. "How hast thou dared to wed the countess with such a secret between you?"

"Father," the baron returned, laying his hand upon the other's arm, and speaking with more coolness than could have been expected, "it is only to-day when I awake with a soul, that I realize what I have done. How could I know before? I was like the beasts in the forest, and I have understood good and evil only as they. Now that the higher light has burst upon me, it dazzles and blinds me. I see only that I have wronged her whom now I would give my life to save from harm. She has given me a soul, and by it I realize how unfit I am to be her mate. Help me, Father, for with all the strength of my new soul I love her, love her, love her!"

The most profound feeling thrilled in Albrecht's voice as he pronounced these words. He sank down at the feet of his companion, and on his knees he clasped the other's hand.

"I am confused, blinded," he went on. "The prospect that opens before me is so vast that it overwhelms me. I have never feared anything in my life, Father; but of this thing which thou callest a soul that has come to me I am afraid, I am afraid, Father Christopher."

The priest was not unnaturally overcome by a situation so far aside from any previous experience of his life. His first thought was that he had to deal with a madman, but there was in the tones and manner of the baron that which compelled his belief. He could not understand, but he was too kindly not to be deeply moved by the emotion of his companion, and he wisely determined to learn as quickly and as clearly as possible the real facts of the strange situation, in order that he............