And for all the rest of their way through the forest he was so deeply sunk in thought that he said scarcely a single word, so that Erna could not but wonder what had come over the spirit of her merry betrothed. From time to time he looked at her and sighed, as if he were reasoning with himself whether he did well to be still with her; and at last, as they rode homeward, she questioned him of what was in his mind. "It is the doubt," he told her, "whether I had the right to make thee love me. It did not come to me to consider that until now; and now--" "And now," she said in a ringing voice, as he broke off and left his sentence unfinished, "now it is too late." The knight shook himself, as if to shake off a gloomy doubt, and struck his spurs into his splendid chestnut stallion. "Yes," he cried in a voice of exultation; "now it is too late!" And away they went, galloping madly down the shaded woodland way, bursting soon into laughter and singing as they dashed along. These moods of Albrecht became more and more noticeable as by the intimacy of their betrothal the lovers were brought more closely together. Erna pondered sometimes when alone whether it were possible that her lover had upon his conscience some dark deed which made him in truth unworthy to claim her love; but no sooner did such a suggestion present itself to her mind than it was rejected with indignation. She was as sure of his innocence as of her own, and perhaps no proof could have persuaded her to the contrary. Yet she did secretly feel that there might be some mystery hidden behind the outward frankness of Albrecht; though even if there were she loved him with a passion that was now too strong to be restrained by any vague suspicions or dim forebodings. When the baron was asked if he wished to send for any of his people to be present at his nuptials, he had answered: "My mother died when I was an infant, and I have neither brothers nor sisters. My father lost his life in a snow-slide three years since, so that I am the last of my race. I will send my squire home for a certain fardel that shall be my _Morgengabe_; and if I may have leave, he shall bring back with him my old foster-father, who has taught me knightly customs and the fashion of Christian folk." "He shall be right welcome for thy sake," the countess had answered. "How is he called, and who is he? Is he of thy kin?" "Nay; he is only a friend of my father," the baron replied with a strange smile, "but he hath dealt well by me. He is called Herr von Zimmern, and he hath an infirmity in his walk, concerning which I would that thy people vex him not." "He shall be courteously dealt with by them all," was Erna's response, "even as if he were thyself."