The woman knit her brows, as if struggling to recall some confused impression, and at length said: "Yes, I did give it to him; I remember now. Where is he?"
"In heaven, I trust," replied the Lord of Hers.
At the word heaven, the tears started in the eyes of the poor creature, and she hung her head. The silence was profound and painful. She was the first to break it.
"Interrupt me no more," she said, suppressing her emotion. "Hear me through. Robert of Stramen and Albert of Hers were rivals for my love, and they began to hate each other bitterly on my account. I loved neither, for I had promised to marry Albert of the Thorn, and I loved him as much as my vain heart was able to love anything. But I was weak enough to receive the presents they gave me for the sake of wearing the finery, and my lover was pleased, because we were poor. My Lord of Stramen, do you remember the day we brought you your brother's corpse?"
The baron shuddered.
"On that very morning—oh! how distinctly do I see it—I was sitting in the ravine, not far from my mother's house, when a wild boar pursued by hounds rushed madly by me. As I stood trembling, a horseman followed, dashing along at full speed. He reined up when he saw me. It was the Lord of Hers. He began to smile, and asked me to forgive him the fright he had given me, and, untying a scarf which he wore around his waist, threw it over my shoulders. Then he put this ring on my finger and galloped off, crying he must not miss the stand. This much you know, Albert of Hers, but you do not know what followed. Was it not as I have said?"
The noble nodded.
"O God, strengthen me to reveal all!" continued the now agitated woman. "I began to walk down the ravine, when I met Albert of the Thorn. I showed him my presents, and we sat down at the foot of a pile of steep rocks, beside a little spring. Albert was arranging the scarf about my neck, when Sir Robert of Stramen suddenly stood before us. His face was pale with rage, and his lips were all foaming. I screamed at his awful appearance. I knew well that he hated my betrothed, and had threatened his life if he married me. He snatched the scarf from my neck, and shaking it at me, said: 'I know very well from whom this came!' Then, turning upon Albert, he cried: 'And for you, who pretend to love her, to connive at his guilt! You shall pay for your baseness with your life!' He stopped here, as if rage had choked him, and drew his sword. Albert sprang quickly up the ledge of rocks, and Sir Robert followed. I saw Albert stoop, pick up a large fragment of rock, and hurl it—I saw Sir Robert fall, and then I grew sick and dizzy, and fainted. When I recovered, Albert was watching me, trembling and livid. I looked around, and there was Sir Robert, stretched out stiff and still and bloody. He had worn nothing but a light cap on his head, and the stone had made a fearful dent in his temple. I knelt beside him, and prayed, and chafed his hands, and brought water from the spring and poured it upon his face. I hoped he would come to life, even if he would only revive to kill me. It was all in vain. He grew cold: he was dead. Again I looked at Albert—he was shaking like a leaf. 'Bertha,' he said, 'I am a lost man! When Sir Sandrit knows this, I cease to live.' I saw his danger, which did not until then occur to me, and I lost my concern for the dead in my fears for him. I loved him better than anything in the world, and the devil, who knew my heart, suggested a scheme for his preservation. The scarf of the Lord of Hers, which bore some family device, was grasped in the dead man's hand, and I saw at once how strongly that circumstance implied the noble's guilt. I concealed the ring he had given me in my pocket. 'Come!' I said to Albert, 'let us take the body to Sir Sandrit, and tell him that we found it in a spot from which we had just seen the Lord of Hers depart.' He refused at first, and would not touch the body, but by argument and entreaty, I prevailed upon him to be guided by me.
"Sandrit of Stramen, you know the rest. You know that we swore to have seen the Lord of Hers ride away from the fatal spot just before we found the body. It was the fact; but my lover and I were perjured in the sight of God. I do not wish to lighten my crime before men, when it is written out so plainly against me before Angels. I was a perjured woman—perjured through love and fear. I heard you swear vengeance. I wept, but I was silent. I saw your fury and your wars. My heart bled, but I was silent. There was no rest, no sleep, no peace for me. It was not my husband's death that drove me mad. Oh, no! It was remorse. There were spectres all around me—I trembled before the innocent, fled before the guilty. The caresses of my child that died at my breast tortured me. I felt as though my breath had withered and defiled it. Every hour was full of misery—day and night there was a gnawing at my heart. At last my mind gave way, and the justice of heaven struck him with death and me with madness!"
Bertha paused an instant, quite exhausted, then again exerting herself, she said: