of the place. I rushed on to save my "but how did you hear of the holy betrothed from this terrible, infuriated water?"" beast. We rode through the garden, tracing the blood even to the very doorstep. The door was open, and blood inside it; up, up the stairs-I was like a madman-up it went, higher and higher, to the door of the room I knew to be Sabine's bedroom. This door, too, was open; I dashed myself in and saw-no wolf-Sabine herself, lying on the ground in a pool of blood! Her shining gold hair all spotted and matted with blood; blood on her hands, blood even on her lips, her teeth all stained with blood. At once the borrid truth came home to me --she was a wehr-wolf!"

Gretchen in her terror stood still. "Yes, you may well be frightened. I can't feel anything very much now; but, shadow as I am, I don't like thinking of that minute. When Sabine caught sight of me, her rage was hideous. She gnashed her crimson teeth, and glared at me from the floor. 'You know all now,' she shrieked, 'don't you? You know now who the wolf was? Wretch, why didn't I turn on you and kill you. I loved you, fool that I was. Even now'-and she tried to stretch out her bleeding arm to me-even now, oh, Franz, if you marry me, I shall lose this nature: even if I die to-night, I shall be soft and tender like other girls, as you would love me to be. I love you so! If I could have loved the others and married one of them, I should never have been like this. Will you marry me, and believe me? Ask my mother if I'm saying the truth!' But I turned away in loathing: 'Marry you!'

CHAPTER II.

"OGRETCHEN, if you could have seen her look! She sprang up in the excitement of her fury, You shall never marry anyone!' she screamed. You can't bear the sight of a few drops of blood! You shall have no blood! You won't have my love! You can't love me! You shall have no power to love!' and that minute my body and blood went from me-my love went from me, and I was what you see

me.

“Poor Franz !" murmured Gretchen;

VOL. VII-NEW SERIES.

"I was stunned at first. I didn't know what to do. My only idea was to creep away out of sight of those that had known me. The room had filled by degrees, and several of my hunting companions had been standing by as Sabine spoke her curse upon me; but the light was still grey, and in the suddenness and bewilderment of the whole affair they didn't notice the shadow on the floor, and thought that she had completely annihilated me. They crossed themselves in turn and made off as fast as their legs could carry them. I could see then, you know, as well as hear, so I got into a neighbouring garden, and lay for the whole terrible long day in the thickest shadow, trying to realise that my life was gone from me.'

"Why didn't you go home and tell your father?" said Gretchen; "how wretched he must have been!”

"You talk like a girl!" cried Franz, petulantly. "What good would it do me to see their tears, and to vex them with my griefs? No! Whatever else might happen, I would hide from everyone, unless it were possible to obtain help. The strange thing was that, by degrees, as the surprise wore off, I seemed to lose all power of caring very much about my fate except for a few moments at a time, and I found myself absolutely coming out of my retreat to warm myself in the rays of the setting sun. Then I began to think of the countess, her mother; she had always seemed a kind and gentle lady, rather sad, perhaps, but now that was easily to be explained. I determined at once to look for her and try if she could help me. I glided into their house, finding it very odd to be able to go just where I pleased, and after a little I found the countess. She was sitting by herself, evidently in great grief. When I began to speak, she was terrified, seeing no one, but her fright gave me time to tell my tale. 'Alas!' she said, when I had told her my miserable condition, 'I can hardly give you any hope. Why didn't you marry her? Marry that fiend!' I exclaimed. 'I can't blame you for hating her,' she answered, very sadly; but she

E

GRETCHEN.

is my child, and therefore I love her.' 'Because you, too, have the same brutal nature,' I thought, but she looked so womanly and kind it seemed scarcely possible. After a long silence she told me there was one chance for me. Her daughter had made me 'loveless, bloodless; but if I could get anyone to love me, that could give no love in return, and love me so well that they would take me, as you are doing, dear Gretchen, should be restored. It seemed such an easy thing at first. I hoped before six weeks were passed to be again myself, but the countess cautioned me. "It is harder than you think. You will have infinite difficulty. You will lose your sight at the next New Year'sday,' she said, 'if not restored by the holy water before that, and then the next year will take away your hearing. It is an awful fate. Oh, why didn't you marry her? It would have saved you both, and she cried very bitterly. "I couldn't help asking how it was that she should be so good while her daughter was what she was. 'Ah,' she said, Sabine would have been as I am if only you had married her. Her father was a wehr-wolf, but I married him. I saved him. The fate was put upon the whole family by a curse; but if for three generations they had married the men or women they loved it would have passed. His father found a girl to marry him, and Rupert found me, but all men don't love as we did. She loved you, too,' she went on, with her whole heart, and on her bridal-night all the terrible nature would have left her. She put a fearful restraint on herself: she would fight against the demon that forced her out when the moon rose till she was quite worn out; but it was too strong for her-she must rush out a terrible wolf till morning, when she would come in to hate and loathe herself. Oh, it's a hard, hard fate, poor Sabine!' Even I couldn't help but pity her. I think if she had told the whole story earlier I would have married her."

"How did you get on at first?"

I could. Naturally one feels shy when "Well, at first I hid away as much as one has no body, or even clothes on. I did, at any rate, and lurked about till I found it very close to Christmas-eve, when I determined to get someone to go with me to Bonn; I wasn't far from it then, and I thought anyone would help me. I didn't know how silly folks are, mostly, so I got up to a cottage door where a woman was sitting with her baby. She was singing away to it, and looked so happy, I began without any dread to tell my story; but no sooner had she looked out and seen me lying across the threshold, and nobody near, than she began screaming at the top of her voice, and I found I had best get away, or I should be trampled to death by the crowd that but I wasn't down-hearted yet. I made came running up. I was in great disgust, up my mind to ask the first person I met, and take my chance. farther I came on a number of dirty little Some distance brats making mud-pies. The mother was standing inside her door working away at some plums she was about to pickle. 'Good woman,' I began, but she thought looking up, that she had nothing for me. I was a beggar, and called out, without I explained that I wanted no money but hardly had she seen me lying against the cottage wall when she, too, called upon all her neighbours, crying out that she saw a ghost. And so it went on-no one dared listen to me except one little boy, and his father flogged him for telling lies. "Oh, I'm so glad you didn't!" So when New Year's-day came I was Gretchen. 'Marry a wehr-wolf!" blind. I almost lost all heart, but my "Well, at any rate, I couldn't now, for hearing became she hated me, and I hated her, and it managed, you see, to get someone to listen more acute, and I would have been no good. I couldn't I to me at last. Ah, Gretchen, how glad I

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said

am you were under the tree when I went there!"

They did very well that night. Gretchen found a kind woman who gave her a night's lodging, and with her help the Shade glided in unobserved, and lay in the house till morning. Thus all went well for several days. Franz had his old misadventures continually in his mind, and was careful never to speak except when he was sure they were alone, and was willing to be guided by his companion, who, on her part, was getting over her fears and becoming used to her strange life. As she did so it began to have a dangerous charm for her. She forgot that it was mere shadow with whom she talked, for it had knowledge and learning, and refinement, such as she had never before known, and its conversation was delightful to her. Still she hadgreat troubles at times from the curious nature of the being with whom she was, and these troubles increased daily. No feeling could last with this Shade, so, though at first so grateful, this soon wore off, and it would even answer angrily to Gretchen's repeated cautions. Sometimes it would address her when people were by, and the poor young girl would see the others all shrink from her with suspicious looks. Sometimes (and this was worse still) he would slide up behind someone on horseback, leaving her to plod on her way alone; and although she always found the Shadow lying at some point of her road waiting for her, and for the moment very penitent, she was often ready to burst out crying and declare that she had undertaken more than she could perform. But the time went on. It wanted now only six weeks to the fated day. People had been very kind to them. The girl looked so true-hearted and grave, and her story of a sick sister at Bonn to whom she was travelling was plausible, and her money had been spared and had lasted well, and she had had many a lift in earts while the Shade lay unnoticed among the wood. At last they came to the great Rhine. As they got out of the ferry-boat, by which they crossed, Gretchen saw a boat laden with wood just about to put off from a small wharf, "Oh!" she cried, "how nice it would be

just to go down with that boat instead of having to walk all the way."

"Why shouldn't we?" said the Shade. "They would want so much money; we can't afford it; but you might go."

"Of course I can! Just tell me where it lies, and ask the man where he stops, that I may join you."

Poor Gretchen's eyes filled. Lately he had been so much kinder and gentler with her; she had grown so fond of him, and he seemed to like her so, and yet here he was ready to take his ease and get on his way quite regardless of her who had done so much for him. However, she said nothing, but did as he said, and went on her way alone. There was no time to lose, for she had a long distance to go in the shortening winter afternoon. Her heart was very sad, and the November wind felt doubly cold. The vines were all bare, and the pale sun shone on the slaty rocks. This time yesterday she had been so happy. A great stormi had come on and she had spread her cloak so as to shelter the Shadow; and as she heard his words of thanks, a warm thrill had come over her as she thought that, perhaps, a time would come when his words would be still kinder, when, perhaps, he would shelter her in his arms from all her troubles. Recollecting this gave her courage, and she stepped on bravely and reached the village at which the boat was to stop before it was absolutely dark. Tired as she was she ran to the edge of the wharf and found the boat fastened up for the night, while the owner was drinking close by at the Golden Swan. It was so dark she could see no Shadow, and didn't know how to let him know of her presence. After some vain attempts she was forced to call out, "Franz, Franz, are you there?"

"Oh yes!" came a voice from the boat, "how can I get out?"

As he answered Gretchen saw to her dismay that there was a man in the boat, and that he had started up immediately on hearing voices. However, she must risk all to get together again. No one could see the Shade in this light, fortunately, and calling out "This way," she stretched out her hand and soon felt the light weight of the Shadow falling on it.

The man was terrified, thought there was a robber in the boat; then, seeing by examination that it was empty, he rushed off, stumbling over Gretchen, shouting out that the place was bewitched.

"You must be drunk, you fool!" said his master, coming out in this outcry.

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'Drunk or not drunk, the voice came out of this coil of ropes as distinctly as ever I heard anything. There was a girl talking to it. As sure as I live it will go down in the Loulei!"

It may be fancied Gretchen didn't wait to hear the end of this dialogue, but hastened as fast as her tired feet could go to the extreme end of the little village, where a small oil lamp over the door gave notice of an inn.

"Oh, Gretchen!" said the Shade, when they were safely apart, "I'm so sorry I left you; I missed you dreadfully: the man kept walking on me. I will never leave you again."

Even this was much for him; and she slept happily.

But now the money began to get low, and there were still nearly three weeks before they could reach the Kreuz Berg. "I don't want money," was the Shadow's remark when she told him in a very doleful voice how little remained.

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"But I can't get on without food; and how can I help you if I have no money?" "I know," he answered, "I was only thinking there were some advantages in my mode of existence."

"You take it very lightly," she said, "but it makes me very unhappy."

"I didn't mean to fret you, Gretchen, indeed, but you know I can't feel things as you do; but I am sorry in my own I missed you horribly yesterday. If I were a man, do you know," he continued, "I think I should be in love with you."

way.

"Hush! hush!" she said, "don't talk so;" while she turned aside her burning, blushing face, as if he could see it. But he went on, quite unconscious—

"Yes, I do love you as well as a loveless being can care for anything, and when I am a man again I will want you to be my wife."

But Gretchen had recovered her presence of mind, and said lightly—

"In the meantime I must be fed, if you are ever to be a man again. What can we do?"

She had, before this, gained a few pence by making baskets of holm straw. and by helping in the fields and vineyards; but the season was too far advanced for out-door work, and time was precious.

The Shade suggested that she should sing before people's houses; her voice was clear and pretty.

"We can but try," the Shade said. "I used to sing well in my old days; I wonder if I could sing now?" and at once he burst out in a full delicious bass which startled and delighted Gretchen beyond measure.

"Oh, what a pity you can't sing too!" she cried; "it's like the singers at high mass; you could gain plenty!"

'Why shouldn't I, then?"

Oh, no, no, no! you've no notion how terrible it is to hear the notes coming out of the earth; it frightened me even when first you began, and I'm used to you."

"Nonsense!" said he, "no one would notice in the dusk ;" and it was only after a great deal of persuasion that Gretchen succeeded in getting him to promise

silence.

At the next village she tried, and with tolerable success, for not only her sweet voice but the look of poverty impelled people to give.

She did indeed begin to look worn with her long journey. Her shoes were in holes and only held on her feet by strings. Her feet were chapped and bleeding with the cold and roughness of the way; her clothes were not warm enough for the season; but in spite of all this there was a look of happiness and hope in her whole bearing which prevented her from being classed with ordinary beggars. To all questions she made answer that her sister was ill at Bonn, and she was going to take care of her and her little child.

At first she couldn't bear telling a false tale, but the thought of Franz made all easy. And now the end was near-only ten days more; and it seemed, too, as if each day that brought the Shade nearer to the spot where he should resume his man's nature gave his feelings more depth, and,