In obedience to a nod from her mother. Faith, with blushing cheeks and downcast eyes, took a light to show the guest to his chamber. He followed her through the Gothic building, up one flight of steps and down another, through crooked passages, until they reached a small, but neatly furnished chamber, in which was a snow white bed. While Faith removed the flowered damask covering, filled the shining pewter ewer with fresh water, and hung a towel near it, he was occupied in observing the beautiful form of the lovely blonde, whose graceful motions, employed for the promotion of his comfort, were for that reason rendered doubly charming. 'Perhaps I render you an unwelcome service in taking you from this place, fair maiden?' said he, by way of beginning conversation. 'How can you think so, sir?' quickly replied Faith. 'I thank my God and yourself for my release.' 'Well, one cannot always know,' said Dorn, jestingly. 'The heart may often have attachments in a place otherwise particularly disagreeable.' 'If I thought you alluded to the captain,' said Faith, with some asperity, 'I could become angry with you, in the first hour of our acquaintance.' 'He is not, indeed, a very fascinating suitor,' continued Dorn; 'but there nevertheless may be in the city of Sagan, some slender rosy youth, who has eyes for so beauteous a maiden.' 'I know none here for whom I could have eyes,' answered the maiden, quickly, and immediately became somewhat alarmed at the traitorous emphasis she had laid upon the word _here_. 'Not here, but elsewhere?' asked Dorn, seizing her delicate white hand. 'These bold questions come from the evil customs of your hateful military profession,' said Faith, endeavoring to withdraw her hand. He suffered her to regain it only by slow degrees, letting but one rosy finger out of his hand at a time, while his pulse was becoming greatly accelerated by the soft, caressing touch. His eyes sought and met hers, which looked kindly upon him, not with the sun's consuming fire, but with the mild chaste light of the friendly moon. 'So you have not yet loved, charming Faith?' he earnestly asked, holding fast the last little finger of the imprisoned hand. 'What a question,' whispered she, turning away from him. 'I am scarcely sixteen years old.' 'Then the first silver-tone is yet to be drawn from this untried 'harp of a thousand strings;' O, how happy,' cried the youth, 'will be that artist who shall one day succeed in awakening its thrilling music!' Faith suddenly exclaimed, 'Good night, captain!' The farewell bow released the yet imprisoned finger, and the delightful vision disappeared. CHAPTER III. When Dorn opened his eyes the next morning, a corporal and six halbardiers were standing before his bed. 'Dress yourself quickly,' commanded the corporal. 'I am ordered to bring you before the duke.'