Ordener stepped back into the gallery; he respected the maiden holding converse with the sky. Prayer is a great mystery, and his heart was involuntarily filled with unknown but profane ecstasy. The door of the oratory was gently closed. Soon a light borne by a white figure moved toward him through the darkness. He stood still, for he felt one of the strongest emotions of his life; he leaned against the gloomy wall; his body was weak, and his limbs trembled beneath him. In the silence of his entire being the beating of his heart was plainly audible to his own ear. As the young girl passed, she heard the rustle of a garment, and a quick, sudden gasp, and cried out in terror. Ordener rushed forward. With one arm he supported her, with the other he vainly tried to grasp the lamp which she had dropped, and which went out. “It is I,” he said softly. “It is Ordener!” said the girl; for the last echo of that voice, which she had not heard for a year, still rang in her ear. And the moon, passing by, revealed the joy of her fair face. Then she repeated, in timid confusion, freeing herself from the young man’s arms, “It is my lord Ordener.” “Himself, Countess Ethel.” “Why do you call me countess?” “Why do you call me my lord?” The young girl smiled, and was silent. The young man was silent, and sighed. She was first to break the silence. “How came you here?” “Pardon me, if my presence disturbs you. I came to see the count, your father.” “Then,” said Ethel, in a changed tone, “you only came for my father’s sake.” The young man bent his head, for these words seemed to him unjust. “I suppose you have been in Throndhjem a long time,” she continued reproachfully, “I suppose you have been here a long time already? Your absence from this castle cannot have seemed long to you.” Ordener, deeply wounded, made no reply. “You are right,” said the prisoner, in a voice which trembled with anger and distress; “but,” she added, in a haughty tone, “I hope, my lord Ordener, that you did not overhear my prayers?” “Countess,” reluctantly replied the young man, “I did hear you.” “Ah! my lord Ordener, it was far from courteous to listen.” “I did not listen, noble Countess,” said Ordener in a low voice; “I overheard you accidentally.” “I prayed for my father,” rejoined the girl, looking steadily at him, as if expecting an answer to this very simple statement. Ordener was silent. “I also prayed,” she continued uneasily, and apparently anxious as to the effect which her words might produce upon him, “I also prayed for some one who bears your name, for the son of the viceroy, Count Guldenlew. For we should pray for every one, even our persecutors.” And she blushed, for she thought she was lying; but she was offended with the young man, and she fancied that she had mentioned him in her prayer; she had only named him in her heart.