him, so you are like to find yourself childless again, if your present
mood masters you much longer."

The Count drew a deep sigh, then roused himself and seemed to shake off
the influence that enchained him.

"Thank you, my girl," he cried, with something of the old ring in his
voice, "I shall do as you advise, and if this embassy results as you
say, you will ever find your staunchest friend in me."

He held out his hand to Elsa, and departed to his other castle of
Gudenfels on the opposite side of the Rhine. From thence he sent a
messenger who had no knowledge of what was happening in Schonburg.

When at last the messenger returned from the Outlaw's camp, he brought
with him a wailing woman and grim tidings that he feared to deliver.
Thrice his lordship demanded his account, the last time with such
sternness that the messenger quailed before him.

"My Lord," he stammered at last, "a frightful thing has taken place--
would that I had died before it was told to me. The young man your
lordship hanged was no other than----'

"Well, why do you pause? You were going to say he was my own son. What
proof does the Outlaw offer that such was indeed the case?"

"Alas! my Lord, the proof seems clear enough. Here with me is young
Lord Wilhelm's nurse, whose first neglect led to his abduction, and who
fled to the forest after him, and was never found. She followed him to
the Outlaw's camp, and was there kept prisoner by him until she was at