A smile flitted across the lips of the stranger, as she rejoined in a pitying tone: “And do you never murmur against those who flung you into this cell? Do you not curse the authors of your misery?” “No, for fear that our curse might draw down upon their heads evils like those which they make us endure.” “And,” continued the pale woman, with unmoved face, “do you know the authors of these evils of which you complain?” Ethel considered a moment, and said: “All that has happened to us is by the will of Heaven.” “Does your father never speak to you of the king?” “The king? I pray for him every morning and evening, although I do not know him.” Ethel did not understand why the stranger bit her lip at this reply. “Does your unhappy father never, in his anger, mention his relentless foes, General Arensdorf, Bishop Spolleyson, and Chancellor d’Ahlefeld?” “I don’t know whom you mean.” “And do you know the name of Levin de Knud?” The recollection of the scene which had occurred but two days before, between Schumacker and the governor of Throndhjem, was so fresh in Ethel’s mind that she could not but be struck by the name of Levin de Knud. “Levin de Knud?” said she; “I think that he is the man for whom my father feels so much esteem, almost affection.” “What!” cried the tall woman. “Yes,” resumed the girl; “it was Levin de Knud whom my father defended so warmly, day before yesterday, against the governor of Throndhjem.” These words increased her hearer’s surprise. “Against the governor of Throndhjem! Do not trifle with me, girl. I am here in your interests. Your father took General Levin de Knud’s part against the governor of Throndhjem, you say?” “General! I thought he was a captain. But no; you are right. My father,” added Ethel, “seemed to feel as much attachment for this General Levin de Knud as dislike for the governor of Throndhjem.” “Here is a strange mystery indeed!” thought the tall, pale woman, whose curiosity increased momentarily. “My dear child, what happened between your father and the governor?” All these questions wearied poor Ethel, who looked fixedly at the tall woman, saying: “Am I a criminal, that you should cross-examine me thus?” At these simple words the stranger seemed thunderstruck, as if she saw the reward of her skill slipping through her fingers. She replied, nevertheless, in a tremulous voice: “You would not speak to me so if you knew why and for whom I come.” “What!” said Ethel; “do you come from him? Do you bring me a message from him?” And all the blood in her body rushed to her fair face; her heart throbbed in her bosom with impatience and alarm. “From whom?” asked the stranger. The young girl hesitated as she was about to utter the adored name. She saw a flash of wicked joy gleam in the stranger’s eye like a ray from hell. She said sadly:-- “You do not know the person whom I mean.” An expression of disappointment again appeared upon the stranger’s apparently friendly face.