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"Our best friend—our preserver," said Caroline.

"Enough," cried Sir Gaston. "Keep a strong guard on the gates. Our friends within the castle may have secured the vile Durlack."

"Friends within Zindorf?" said Claudio.

"Yes," answered Sir Gaston de Beauvais. "I am the bearer of some important papers, among which is the free pardon and restoration to his rank and honours of the Chevalier D’Anville, who by this time has entered Zindorf Castle by the passage through the vaults. He and some faithful followers have been the terror of this bad man," pointing to the baron, "for a long time past. They, by means of tubes, produced awful sounds in the vaulted passages of Zindorf, and knowing his crime, they were well able to wring his guilty soul."

"Fool that I was!" cried the baron. "Fool! Fool!"

"Curse you!" said Roland.

"Among other papers," continued Sir Gaston, "I likewise bear a confession from Marco Bruttzi, the brigand, that to his knowledge the baron, who we now so happily apprehended, murdered his cousin, and would have slaughtered his twin children, because they stood between him and the inheritance of Zindorf, but for the awakened conscience of one of his truest bravos, who saved the infants’ lives."

"Saved them?" shrieked the baron.

"Sir Gaston," cried Claudio; "this lady has reason to believe that the grandfather of those children still lingers a prisoner in the walls of Zindorf."

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"Gracious Heavens! can it be so?" cried the knight; "on, comrades on."

All followed Sir Gaston as he pressed forward into the castle.

"What means this smoke?" he said.

"The castle is on fire," cried Euphoric.

"On fire?"

They now arrived in the great hall of Zindorf Castle, which was nearly filled with dense vapour.

"Soldiers!" cried Sir Gaston; "disperse yourselves and endeavour subdue this conflagration. We will burn down Zindorf in good time, but this is premature."

Euphoric now sprang forward, his eyes glistening with a wild fire.

"Hold!" he cried, and his voice rung through the ancient hall, while his form seemed to dilate with passion.

All paused.

"Seize the Count Durlack, there!" cried Euphoric, as he pointed him out among the throng who were about to leave the hall in pursuance of the orders of Sir Gaston.

"Betrayed, and by Euphoric!" exclaimed Durlack, stepping forward; "I am the Count Durlack."

"Yes," cried the page; "Ha! ha! Look at him! Gaze on him—He is full of life—the suborner of justice—the assassin—the enemy of man, himself, and Heaven—the murderer of MONTONI—the victim of the son of Montoni!"

With a shriek and a bound, the page sprung upon the count, and plunged the glass dagger in his heart.

A deep groan burst from Count Durlack, and he fell to the ground a corpse, with Euphoric above him.

The thing was done so suddenly that none could prevent it, but now twenty arms were stretched forward to raise Euphoric.

He was dead! A small stream of blood came from his mouth. He had broke a blood-vessel, and died upon the body of his father’s murderer.

"Oh, let us leave this fearful hall," cried Caroline.

"Remove those bodies," cried Sir Gaston; "Hark! those cheers—It is D’Anville."

A door at the farther extremity of the hall was now flung open, and the Chevalier D’Anville appeared with his daughter, Frederique, and a strong armed band.

All eyes were, however, in a moment attracted towards an aged man, of the most venerable appearance, who leaned heavily upon D’Anville’s arm.

"It is the aged baron!" cried Caroline.

"It is," said D’Anville. "Behold the real Baron Zindorf, who for many years has lingered a prisoner in this melancholy pile."

"God bless all friends," said the old man. "I can now die, for—for—I have lost all I loved."

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"Say not so, sir," said Sir Gaston de Beauvais, advancing. "There is information that your grandchildren were not murdered."

"They live?" cried the old man, clasping his hands.

"That I can vouch for," said D’Anville. "At least, I believe it on the word of a dying man. They were preserved, and lived long with an humble but good man, under the name of ‘Vileroy!’"

"Vileroy?" cried Claudio.

"True," said Sir Gaston, "such is the name."

"God of Heaven!" said Claudio, throwing himself at the feet of the old baron, "I am your grandchild. The son of your murdered son."

All were soon convinced of Claudio’s parentage, for the relation of Maurice confirmed everything.

The old baron thanked Heaven a hundred times, and mingled his tears with those of Claudio, as he tenderly embraced him.

"But your brother," he said. "Where is he?"

"Alas!" said Claudio; "my poor Alphonso!—I much fear he is indeed, lost for ever."

"In the, sleeping room of the Count Durlack," said Caroline; "there is a manuscript which will throw much light on this said matter."

By the orders of Sir Gaston the paper was quickly procured, and Claudio tremblingly took the written statement in his hand.

"My dear child," said the old baron to Claudio, "you tremble."

"I—I—am thinking of Alphonso," said Claudio. "Should there yet be a hope of his existence."’

Caroline advanced—her eyes were swimming with tears, and she looked beseechingly in Claudio’s face, as she said, in a tone of much sympathy:—

"Before you commence reading these affecting papers," said Caroline, to Claudio, "I must beseech you and my lord, the baron, to prepare yourselves to hear the worst, as Monsieur Vileroy unquestionably lost his life within these walls."

"There is no one left now from whom we have a chance of learning where his remains are," said the venerable man.

"It may be learnt from the fears of the usurping baron, or his associate Roland," said Claudio. "May I proceed to their dungeon?"

"Certainly," said the baron;—"but take with you a guard;—they are capable of any villany!"

Claudio was not absent above ten minutes when he returned, and said solemnly:—

"It is the will of Heaven! They are both dead!"

"Dead?" exclaimed the venerable lord Zindorf.

"Aye, sir," said Claudio. "The baron has evidently fallen by the hand of his associate Roland; and he has hung himself!"

"This has been a day of horror!" said the baron. "Let the page Euphoric be honorably buried, for his was a noble nature, although it erred. I have already told you that I am anxious to retain about me all those that I love. And here is one," continued he, turning to Caroline, "who

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demands from me a recompence higher than I have the power to bestow. I have learnt to appreciate riches as they deserve, and to feel that rank and power are insufficient to ensure happiness. The greatest to be found in life is, the possession of a worthy affectionate heart, and its highest enjoyments are to be derived from the good and virtuous. On you, my sweet child, I wish to bestow that security for your felicity, which is alone to be found in the possession of this choice blessing. I have studied this young man with scrutinizing care, as well as with the eye of affection, and I venture to pronounce that he inherits the amiable qualities of his ever-to-be-lamented father.—He adores you. Say, my love, will you receive from me his hand, as the best gift I can bestow, and become indeed my daughter, by choice, as well as by adoption?"

He took a hand of Claudio’s, and held out one of his own to Caroline, who, unhesitatingly, with deep blushes, presented him with hers. He united them together, and straining them to his bosom:—

"May virtue," said he, "my children, be ever your pursuit, and unalloyed happiness its reward."

It is impossible to describe the happiness of this little group. They had all experienced adversity, and their hearts were dilated with joy and gratitude at this blissful reverse of fortune.

The fire in the castle was effectually subdued, and Zindorf and its lord were grateful themes to the surrounding peasantry for many a happy year.