It is needless to detail how gradually the eyes of this unhappy lady became opened to the character of the man who was the father of her children. When a clue was once obtained to all that was mysterious in his conduct, the full measure of his iniquity soon became known to her. She had not been much more than six months at the castle, before she knew that the Graff had for some years been in the practice of atrocities that filled her with terror,-that his wealth was derived chiefly from the coinage of false money, of which there was a complete establishment in one of the dungeons of the castle, and that he still further augmented it, by sending out bands of robbers to waylay the passing travellers, and bring back their booty to him. These brigands he harboured in his own dwelling; and when it was necessary, as not unfrequently happened, that the robbery should be concealed by a murder, the deed was perpetrated within its walls.

The existence of this nefarious troop of robbers was well known to the authorities at Innspruck, but the name and station of the Graff placed him above all suspicion; and whilst all pursuit was baffled by the impossibility of discovering the brigands' haunt, it was never for a moment suspected, to be the castle inhabited by the son of the good old Count L

As soon as the Graff discovered that his wife was acquainted with his secret, he took measures for retaining her in such close confinement, that it was impossible she could hold communication with any one but himself, even by letter. These precautions, however, soon became quite unnecessary; the unhappy Graffin speedily sunk under the shock she had received, and the complete overthrow of all her earthly happiness. After the lapse of a few weeks she died, and he knew that her knowledge of his crimes went with her to the grave undivulged.

It is seldom that a man, however much he may have gone astray, becomes altogether depraved; some spark of better feeling generally lingers amongst all the moral darkness which the indulgence of his evil passions brings over his heart. It was so with the Graff. Lost and guilty as he certainly was, he never wavered in his faithful and sincere attachment to his gentle wife; and when he saw her dying before him, his grief was quite uncontrollable. The Graffin, perceiving how much he was softened for the moment, seized the opportunity of making to him a last request. She was overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of leaving her unprotected and innocent children to the care of such a man; and she implored him, with all the eloquence of a dying mother, to promise her that he would immediately send his sons to the monastery at Innspruck, and leave them there at least until they had attained the age of twenty.

The Graff gave the required pledge; nor did he fail in its performance. Traitor and assassin as he had become, he yet felt the

sacredness of a promise made to the dead; and no sooner had he seen his wife interred in the Franciscan church, than he himself conducted his twin sons to the monastery, and delivered them to the care of the good Superior, (whose arrival we had witnessed.)

As this was by no means an unusual mode of education for the children of noble houses, the proceeding of the Graff created no astonishment. He himself having once more amassed a considerable amount of money, again quitted the Tyrolean castle, and departed to France; there to revel in the fruits of his ill-gotten wealth.

Meanwhile the two boys, Arnold and Wilhelm, remained at the monastery, and, in accordance with their dying mother's wish, were never allowed to stir out beyond its garden walls. Two more gentle or beautiful children could nowhere have been seen. They inherited, in all respects, the Graffin's mild and amiable disposition, and as they grew up, evinced a most extraordinary and fervent piety. Both were delicate in health, and singularly alike in appearance and character. So far from ever having any desire to quit the convent, or to join in the sports suitable to their years, their sole pleasure was to attend the services of the chapel, to sing in the choir, and arrange the decorations of the altar.

It will readily be imagined how willing the monks were to foster these dispositions; and their efforts to instruct and elevate the minds of their pupils were in this instance crowned with success. As though by a merciful interposition, these children of a lost and guilty father had the most unusual longing for purity and goodness. Truthful and guileless, they shrunk from every breath of evil; and by the time they had reached the age when their father was at liberty to remove them from the monastery, they were looked upon by the monks truly as youthful saints. The Graff, meanwhile, having dissipated all the riches he had so unlawfully obtained, had, a year or two before this period, returned to his castle in the mountains. There he resumed the evil practices which he had as yet succeeded in concealing so skilfully. He now, however, met with difficulties in his guilty pursuits which had never before assailed him. He found it scarce possible to obtain associates, especially for the coinage of false money. tain reports had got abroad that an establishment of this kind existed somewhere in the mountains; and although it seemed little likely that any suspicion could fall on the Graff himself, still there were few bold enough to join him. Some of the brigands, also, who had formerly been his accomplices, had been captured and executed; so that it was but seldom he could attempt the daring robberies whereby he had gained so much. These obstacles, however, served but to render the Graff, thus rushing headlong down the career of crime, more determined and more desperate. The thirst for gold (which originally he had prized only as the source whence his luxuries and pleasure were obtained) now became in

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itself a passion, which he was determined to satisfy at all hazards. In his present emergency, he suddenly bethought him of his sons. He had not seen them for some time, but he had no doubt they were now strong and courageous young men, whom nature herself seemed to have provided as his associates and assistants. Not only could he claim their obedience and service as their father, but he doubted not the care of their own interests would make them willing to follow on the course he should point out for the acquirement of wealth that must ultimately be all their own. It never occurred to him that their good principles might prove an insurmountable obstacle to their willing entrance on a course of systematic crime, however great might be the benefits resulting to themselves. It is strange how a man will lose even the power of distinguishing between right and wrong, when he has once allowed his evil propensities to obtain the mastery over him.

The Graff then, confident of the success of his scheme, lost not a day after the period stipulated in removing his sons from the monastery to his own castle. He was at first greatly disappointed to find that instead of the hardy and resolute young men he had hoped they might prove, they were fragile, delicate, and even timid, looking many years younger than they really were; but he soon found that the absence of these bolder qualities was amply compensated by their extreme docility and tractability. Their whole desire seemed to be to obey his slightest word or look, and on all occasions to please him by every means in their power; they had been taught by the monks even from infancy that it was their first earthly duty to honour their father, and they never supposed it possible that he could be otherwise than well worthy of their reverence. The Graff was careful for some time to foster this delusion, although he anticipated not the smallest opposition to his will when once he should declare it; but he had seen enough of their fervent piety to feel rather afraid of the consequences if he allowed them any time to brood over the crimes he wished them to commit; he felt that he would best ensure success by waiting till their services were absolutely required, and then bending them to his will by the simple exercise of the authority which they had never disputed.

An opportunity soon occurred-a deed was to be done within the castle-a deed of murder and robbery on an unhappy man who had been inveigled there on false pretences; the Graff was alone, and the assistance of his sons absolutely necessary. He hesitated no longer; summoning them to his presence he unfolded his designs, seemingly with a quiet confidence in their accordance to his wishes, and speaking of a most guilty project as a mere matter of course. It was some time before the young men could at all comprehend the meaning of his words, in their perfect guilelessness, thinking no evil, it was utterly impossible for them to believe

that their beloved father was what he represented himself to be. The Graff becoming at last impatient of their incredulity, took the best means of convincing them by detailing the whole history of his life, and proving to them that even before their birth he had lived in the practice of crimes they had scarcely even dreamt of. Gradually the truth gained upon them, a full conviction of it took possession of their minds, and froze them into a silent horror.

Till now scarce had they guessed that such evil was in the world, and with that bitter knowledge came the certainty that it was present with them in the person of a father! It is needless to speak of the crushing anguish which fell upon them at once; they seemed petrified into statues of stone, and the Graff never forgot the expression of their faces as they stood before him there, so young and beautiful, paralyzed by the weight of a lifetime of sorrow which his life of iniquity had brought on them in one

moment.

Irritated by the goadings of his uneasy conscience, the guilty father loudly commanded them to go and do as he had said. Then for the first time they made answer, speaking both together, as though with one voice and one heart, they told him that whilst they were ready to render him the obedience due to a parent even unto the death, in all things lawful, yet never should the fleshly ties of earth enthral their souls to evil. The Graff was both amazed and infuriated at this unexpected opposition, and at the change that seemed to have passed over his gentle sons, who were as undaunted and resolute in this matter as they had been timid and complying before. Their submission was now, however, of twofold necessity to him, as he had placed himself in their power by making them masters of his secret, and he was resolved not to be baffled by the stubbornness of two weak and delicate youths.

A frightful scene ensued, in which the utmost violence on the part of the Graff was opposed by the sorrowful but resolute resistance of the two young men ; his rage at last knew no bounds, and he sought for some expedient which should compel them to yield. Suddenly, looking out from the window, he perceived that one of the tremendous snow storms common to the Tyrol had commenced, night had closed in, the snow lay many feet deep already, and it was falling so thick and fast that the heavens seemed enveloped in a shroud. It is well known that any unfortunate person who is out on the Tyrolean mountains at such a time must infallibly perish; if he escape falling down the precipices unseen beneath the uniform white surface, he is certain to be overpowered by a snow drift, or buried alive from the yielding of the snowy masses beneath his feet. The Graff knew that his sons were aware of this, and turning to them, with stern determination he told them to take their choice, and either go out alone into the terrible storm on the mountains, or to obey him in his com

mands without delay; if once they left his house, he swore to them they never should enter it again.

What he meant as a threat became a prophecy : no sooner had he informed his sons of this decision and bidden them make their choice, than calmly taking one another by the hand, they said "Let us go," and slowly, though firmly, walked away; when they reached the door, they turned round and both looked mournfully on their father. Then Arnold, who had ever been the more daring of the two, addressed the astonished Graff in a solemn and earnest manner; he bade him listen to his words as to those of a dying man; and in the most impressive and eloquent manner exposed before him the enormity of his crimes; he exhorted him to repentance, and warned him of judgment and retribution, and finally invoked a blessing on his own and his brother's death, in order that it might be the means of awakening his conscience and bringing him to repentance.

Without adding a word they quitted the room, and going straight to the castle gate went out into the dark night and the destructive storm. The Graff remained in a state of stupefaction which rendered him unconscious even that they had left him; the solemn words of his son were the first he had ever heard which could arouse him to a sense of his sins, and like a winged arrow the sudden conviction had shot home to his guilty heart with an agonizing power; the veil seemed to fall from his eyes, and he saw all things in a new and terrible light-crimes long forgotten-iniquities past and present rose up and around him like gloomy phantoms; he was seized with a great horror of himself, and he sunk down prostrate beneath his load of guilt. How long he lay overwhelmed by his new and appalling feelings he knew not; but when at last he rose up, his first thought was for his sonshis holy and innocent sons, who yet by their gentle counsels might lead him back into the paths of penitence and peace-he rushed through the castle seeking them, but found them not-then he remembered all!-himself had sent them forth to death, and they were gone! He flew down to the gateway that he might follow them, but it was no longer possible! the snow had fallen with such extraordinary rapidity that the entrance was altogether blocked up, and no human efforts could have effected a passage through it!

It is needless to describe the agony endured by the wretched man that night, or to detail how the image of his dead wife rose up before him, upbraiding him with the murder of her sons, or how the eloquent exhortations of the young Arnold rung in his ears like a voice from another world. Two days elapsed before the snow had melted sufficiently to enable him to commence his search on the mountain for his lost children. Then haggard and wan as a spectre the Graff went forth, and having sent men out in all directions, proceeded himself by a path which led into a deep