The young baron turned for a moment, when the level of the
castle had been gained, perhaps to see whether he were following, but
at the same time came to a sudden, speechless pause.
On the white masses of vapour that floated on the opposite side of
the mountain was traced a gigantic shadowy outline of a hermit, with
head bent eagerly forward, and arm outstretched.
The monk crossed himself. Eberhard stood still for a moment, and
then said, hoarsely,--"The Blessed Friedmund! He is come for her;"
then strode on towards the postern gate, followed by Brother Norbert,
a good deal reassured both as to the genuineness of the young Baron's
message and the probable condition of the object of his journey,
since the patron saint of her race was evidently on the watch to
speed her departing spirit.
Sir Eberhard led the way up the turret stairs to the open door, and
the monk entered the death-chamber. The elder Baron sat near the
fire in the large wooden chair, half turned towards his daughter, as
one who must needs be present, but with his face buried in his hands,
unable to endure the spectacle.
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