100 THE MONK. 



sitation, he replied * I will, I will I but mine is a horrible story.' 

 He then gave me a short sketch of his life ; and from this it appear- 

 ed, that he had been for some years carrying on a system of plunder 

 and violence, sometimes leading a band of brigands and at others, 

 under various disguises, luring unwary travellers with false appear- 

 ances and watching an opportunity to rifle and destroy his victims. 

 But he had not always been abandoned ; and the memory of his early 

 days, passed in peace and happiness, came across him in his last 

 hour. I then asked how he came to be wounded, he replied ; * I will 

 tell you, but first take this,* placing a ring in my hand, ' and promise 

 me' — Before he could proceed, nature was subdued — he sank back — 

 his eyes closed — his upraised hand fell passive — his lips parted ; and, 

 with a few confused words of prayer^ his spirit fled. On my arrival 



at the next town, which was in an opposite direction to , I gave 



information of these circumstances, and proceeded on my journey.' 



" Mary, who had recovered from her fainting, and who had listened 

 in breathless anxiety to every word that had passed, now started up ; 

 and, laying her hand upon the monk's arm, exclaimed with wild e- 

 nergy — * but the ring ! where is it I where is it I' * Here, lady,* he 

 replied, and placed it in her hand. She cast one look at it—' it is I' 

 she exclaimed, ' it is my own gift to him ! his innocence will now be 

 proved.' During the recital of the foregoing particulars, the object 

 most materially interested in them had so far recovered as to be able 

 to speak, and to take some refreshment ; but it was not yet thought 

 desirable to tell him of the joy that was in store for him. In the 

 mean time, the countess had sent an urgent request to speak with 

 one of the fathers. They were all occupied in devotion save the 

 monk so often mentioned, and he repaired instantly to her apartment. 



When he entered the chamber her face was averted, and her hands 

 clasped over her brow. He closed the door ; and, gently approach- 

 ing, asked how he could serve her. She slowly turned her head and 

 fixed upon him her full dark eyes, with a look so wild, so fraught 

 with agony, that he started back and stood transfixed in amazement. 

 His countenance assumed an ashy paleness. His limbs trembled. 

 He felt that sickness of soul which no language can describe. His 

 gaze was ri vetted intently on the object before him ; and, for some 

 moments he remained incapable of speech or motion. At length, 

 with a strong efibrt, the countess broke silence, and exclaimed, * It 

 is, then, a reality. It is he himself I Merciful Heaven I support me. 

 Rudolf,' she continued, ' they told me you were dead, and I thought 

 myself your murderer. I wept in bitterness of spirit, but my tears 



