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VOLUME I. |
BY C. R. IIANLEITER.
P © IE T P Y a
“ Much yet remains unsung.” /
RICH AND POOR.
BY MISS LANDON.
Few, save the poor, feel for the poor,
The rich know not how hard
It is to be of needful food
And needful rest debarred.
Their paths are paths of plenteousness ;
They sleep on silk and down,
And never think how heavily
The weary head lies down.
They know not of the scanty meal,
With small pale faces round ;
No fire upon the cold damp hearth,
When snow is on the ground.
They never by the window lean,
And see the gay pass by,
Then take their weary task again,
Cut with a sadder eye.
SIMMJT TAIL®,
From the “ Magnolia.”
THE PEASANT QUEEN.
A SWEDISH CHRONICLE.
Ch apter I.
“ A glooming peace, this morning with it brings.”
It was tin* 12th of July, lA6I, and the
city of Stockholm presented a spectacle of
unusual bustle and rejoicing. The inhabi
tants were seen crowding the streets from
the first, peep of dawn ; the bells pealed
out in merry chime ; the cannon thundered,
and the flourish of trumpets issued from
the palace-gates with never-tiring echo. It
was a day fraught with great interest to ev
ery Swede, for on this particular morning,
Eric XIV’ made his entry into this, the capi
tal of his estates. Thirty years had elapsed,
since the people had witnessed any such \
public demonstration of rejoicing; for, at I
the accession of Gustavus Vasa, the treasu
ry was so much exhausted by foreign wars,
that royalty wisely put aside its claims, and
took its ancestral seat, in quiet.
But now, the immense treasure amased
by the late king was opened to meet the ex
penses of this new coronation ; the most
skilful merchants and architects were called
into requisition ; and, with a careless hand,
young Eric expended a large amount of the
money, which had been accumulating for
many years. Nothing could exceed the
variety of the amusements, which were this
day afforded the populace. In one square
were collected a menagerie, comprising
foreign birds and animals, such as had never
appeared before in Stockholm ; further on,
an ingenious actor exhibited his puppet
show, representing scenes from the drama
of Faust—bis terrible death, his seizure by
the devil, and even his hell-torments ; while
at a little distance, astrologers were seen,
explaining the mysteries of the constella
tions, and foretelling events.
About mid-day, a louder flourish of trum- :
pets, and a tramp of men and horses was
heard in the distance. “ The king is com
ing !” was the cry from every mouth ; and
the multitude swelled like a living sea, as it
prest on to meet its new sovereign. The
insigticies of royalty first appeared, carried
by the respective dignitaries ; then came a
long and glittering array of knights and ba
rons, with their gorsreous banners waving to
the breeze; then was the Duke John, the
king’s brother, mounted on a superb horse,
and clad in princely costume; and last of
all, the King himself, attended by his two
couticellors, Burraeus and Persson, follow
ed by a throng of gentlemen, soldiers and
valets.
And well might the people proudly gaze
on this youthful descendant of their beloved
king, Gustavas Vasa. Scarce twenty-eight
years of age, his figure was tall and grace
ful as an Apollo ; his bright auburn hair fell
in soft masses even to his shoulders; and
his deep blue eyes beamed with piide, plea
sure and affection, mingled with an habitual
expression of melancholy, as he met the
gaze of that assembled concourse. The
symmetry of his shape was finely set off
by a close dress of heavy brocade, forming
strong contrast with his dark Spanish man- j
tie, laden with diamonds, and his black bon
net, surmounted by a superb ostrich plume.
Ihc silence of the crowd was thrilling, as
he appeared in the midst of his cortege;
but after their first long gaze of admiration,
a sudden explosion of delight burst from
the crowd; the shouts echoed from street
to street, till alarmed by this enthusiasm, his
horse became restive, and the king was al
most thrown directly in front of the Brunke
burg palace. “ This spot promises to be a
fatal one to me,” observed Eric, with a se
rious smile. “It was here that Sweden’s
heads bowed to the executioner’s axe,” re
plied Count Sturc; and perhaps your steed
smells blood.”
What a change did these few words pro
duce in the young king’s countenance ; his
flushed brow became pale with superstitious
alarm ; his ear, which had but lately drank
in with delight the acclamations of the mul
titude, grew suddenly deaf to the voice of
applause; and abruptly entering the palace
gate, he neglected to bestow those marks of
recognition due the expectant populace —
who, surprised aud disappointed by bis in-
& jF.vmilg JLctesjjapct*: to HUcrattivc, Earfculturc, S&rrftfttifro, Etoiiczticn, jpcrctau amr Semc&tCc XutelHscucc, scc.
| difference, returned in wondering conjec
| ture to their respective homes.
Ch apter 11.
“ That old man
Can take no root again ! he hath snaped ofif
The ancient tendrils.”
It was on the evening of this day, that
Molts, one of the king’s guards, met on his
homeward way a young friend, who wore
the equalet of a sergeant. “Ah ! Max, is
it you ?” he exclaimed, slapping him fami
liarly on the shoulder; “1 am truly glad
that we have met; for two such faith-
I ful subjects, should not take their bottles of
beer apart, on this glorious day. Come along
with me ; my grandfather will be delighted
to see you, and Catharine, methinks, will
not meet you with a frown.” A blush of
pleasure mantled the young officer’s face,as
lie promptly accepted the invitation. In a
few moments they reached the door of a
humble dwelling, where the friends entered,
and were cheerfully welcomed by an old
man, the elder Mons, who, seated in his ac
customed place, was diligently perusing his
favorite volume, the Bible. Rembrant him
self might have chosen this aged soldier for
his study. His large and well-formed head
was adorned with a few gray locks of a
silken texture ; the expansive forehead was
almost unwrinkled ; his eyes beamed bright
ly from beneath the heavy brows, and his
white and flowing heard hung even to his
breast. Having served as a soldier under
Gustavas Vasa, he received a yearly pen
sion after that king’s death, and was now
passing his remaining years in obscurity.
His whole life had been, indeed, dedicated
to that monarch ; since one half of it had
been spent in fighting for him, and the other
half seemed fully occupied in talking about
him. No story ever past his lips, in which
Gustavus did not conspicuously figure; and
he was never weary of describing the wretch
ed state of Sweden under the Danish yoke
—its revolt, the massacre of its nobles, the
king’s flight to Delecaria, his numberless
i perils, and his final accession to the throne.
! As he proceeded, big tears would stream
down his cheeks, his breast would heave
convulsively, and he would half audibly
murmur, “ Why is it that 1 have outlived
my general ?”
One tie still bound him to life ; it was the
affection lie bore his beloved grand-daugh
ter, the fair Catharine, to whom we have al
ready referred. And truly, she was worthy
the love he lavished upon her. To eyes,
bine and lustrous as her country’s lakes, a
mouth sweet as an opening rose-bud, and
hair that seemed to imprison sunshine in
their brown tresses —she united a disposi
tion of such continual cheerfulness and vi
vacity ; manners, timid yet so full of naivete,
and a voice -of such musical cadence, that
she might well be the delight of the old
man, as well as of Maximilian, who so often
dropped in, under the pretext of enjoying’
a social chat with the veteran.
We may readily imagine this evening’s
theme of conversation. The soldier’s face
flushed with pleasure, as his grand-son re
lated the events of the morning: the king’s
i march from Rottebro to Stockholm ; his in
gress into the city, and his reception by the
populace ; but when he referred to the ac
cident which had nearly taken place, through
his horse’s misrule, the veteran sighed deep
ly, and shook his head, as he observed that
it prognosticated no good fortune.
“ Nay ! father,” said the younger Mons,
laughingly ; “ I am sorry that 1 mentioned
what is really of no consequence, but which
excites in you such alarm. Since our king’s
death, you fancy that Sweden lias lost its
good genius, and that naught but calamity
must befall it.”
“ Ah ! my son, how can I help fearing,
when I see my young master surrounded
by such evil councillors; when 1 hear of
his being a skilful poet, musician and astro
loger; and when, besides, f am told, that
he is naturally of a weak, suspicious dispo
sition ; liable to violent though short-lived
bursts of passion, and strongly imbued with
superstition.”
The conversation was now interrupted Ly
Catharine, who placed on the board some
refreshments, along with three silver drink
ing vessels, bearing an inscription in Ger
man, which enforced on all drinkers the love
| of God, and the practice of virtue. Max.
cast a loving glance on the maiden, as she
took her seat at a small table, and commenc
ed arranging her fruits and flowers for the
morrow’s sale ; for it was so that she earn
ed an honest but humble livelihood. Olt
seiving that her countenance became ovei
shaded by the turn of conversation, he en
deavored to change the topic ; but the young
girl had that morning caught a glimpse of
the handsome monarch ; her heart yearned
towards him, in spite of his unfortunate dis
positions, and she entered with such keen
interest into their discussions respecting his
future fate, that, hurt by her apparent indif
ference towards himself, Max. rose after a
brief visit, and bade them good night.
Chapter 111.
“ Every hour,
He flashes into some gross criiuoor other,
That sets us all at odds.”
The fears of the elder Mons were but too
well founded, for Eric speedily displayed
many dangerous and vicious characteristics.
Yet, although improvident and prodigal, sus
picious and passionate, he oficn exhibited
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 29, 1842.
traits of honor and virtue, which made his
character a strange compound of opposite
qualities. As his subjects were early desir- j
ous that he should marry, he made proposals
to Elizabeth of England, which were, how
ever, refused ; an ambassador was then des
patched to Mary, Queen of Scrtts, who met
with the same ill luck ; the king then turned
his eye, though with hopeless desire, to the
Princess Rene, of Lorraine; till his last
negotiation, a like offer to Catharine of
Hesse, was entirely successful, and the fol
lowing month was fixed for their nuptials.
Twelve vessels were despatched to hear the
bride to Sweden, but encountering the Dan
ish fleet near Bornholm, they were attacked
and dispersed ; and the commander, after
reaching Lubeck, sent messengers to the
Princess, informingher of this eontre temps,
yet urging his master’s suit. Three weeks
elapsed, when they returned—but without
the bride; for the Landgrave, becoming
suddenly alarmed by the disturbed state of
Sweden, declined giving np his daughter
for the present.
Eric, whose fust hope had been fixed on
Elizabeth, now despatched a letter by a se
cret emissary, in which he ventured so far
as to assure her, that lie had never seriously
contemplated a marriage with the Princess
of Hesse ; this letter was intercepted and
opened by the Landgrave, who, filled with
indignation, commanded Eric’s ambassador
to quit his possessions, never to return.
Such were the public acts of the young
king, and his private ones were equally re
prehensible. Unfriendly feelings had been
long fostered between this monarch and liis
brother John, which, although carefullycon
cealed, only required a spark to enkindle.
Eric, who delighted in the study of astrolo
gy, read in the stars that his life was menac
ed by a man with light hair; and at the
j suggestions of his councillor, (lie designing
j Persson, his suspicions rested on Prince
John, who was immediately taken prisoner,
I and conducted to Stockholm, along with his
I young wife.
Persson strongly urged his immediate
j death, hoping by such means to rise higher
|in office; but the king could not be won
over to consent to such extreme measures,
and he was therefore strictly confined in the
castle of Grispbolm. His wife was offered
her liberty, along with a luxurious home in
the palace, but showing her marriage ring,
with this motto, “nemo nisi mors” she would
not even reply to Eric’s seeming indulgence,
hut shared her husband’s prison.
This flesh act of injustice naturally con
tributed to make the king more unhappy
than ever. His Suspicions were aroused by
the least playful words among his courtiers;
thoughts of treason were discovered in eve
ry harmless act; and yet, scarcely did he
yield to his ungovernable temper, before
conscience won the mastery, and with self
j promises of reformation, he would exclaim.
I “ I have sinned again ! alas ! I have sinned
again !”
j Like the mysterious huntsman so often
; introduced into German ballads, lie seemed
j to belong both to an angel of light and a
| demon of darkness.
Ch apter IV.
“I have lliec—thou art mine,
Wiih life to keep, and but with life resign.”
Tin •ee years had elapsed, since Eric’s tri -
umphal entree into Stockholm, and the most
indifferent observer must have been struck
with the change which had taken place in
his appearance during that time. His face
was pale to sickliness; his brow clouded
with perpetual gloom ; even in his happier
moments, his smile was sad and unfrequent;
needless suspicions had destroyed the good
faith of his subjects; and instead of the
crowds who once welcomed his approach,
the citizens were now seen to withdraw in
to their houses as lie passed, and his coitage
often moved through still and deserted
streets.
As he was one evening taking his accus
tomed ride along the city-bridge, he observ
ed an unusual throng, collected near his pal
ace gate. “ What is the meaning of yond
er crowd ?’’ he anxiously inquired; “can
it he a fresh revolt I” The officer whom
he addressed, put spurs to his horse, and
quickly returned with the information, that
a young female with the name of Catharine
Mons, and who was the peasant-belle of the
city, had been knocked down by a carriage,
and was now lying apparently dead.
Eric’s first impulses were always those
of benevolence, and rushing on in advance
of his guard, he reached the spot at the mo
ment when they were arranging a litter, on
which to convey the stunned hut still living
maiden to her home. The crowd separated
at his approach, and regardless of his digni
ty, the king sprang from the saddle, and
pushing aside the boor who supported Cath
arine, he took her in his arms, rested her
fair head on his broidered shoulder, bathed
her white temples with water; and when
consciousness at length returned, ami her
blue eyes opened in languid tenderness on
the king’s face, Eric could hardly refrain
from expressing his pity, joy and admiration.
Piecing her gently on the litter, he com
manded that she should be carried into the
palace, where a surgeon would be in attend- 1
ance; and hurrying on, lie gave orders that |
a chamber should be thrown open for her I
reception. j
How wearisome was the perusal of the
military .bulletins, which were on this eVen-
I ing presented for the king’s inspection; and
with what eagerness did he ascend to his
observatory, once more to read his fate in
j the stars.
Burraeus, his tutor in astrology, was al
ready there, awaiting him ; for the wily
courtier had observed the interest with
which the king regarded the young peasant,
and had already plotted a scheme against his
peace. The door had hardly closed on
them, than turning from the window, he ex
claimed, “ Ah ! sire, what is this that I seel
Anew star has risen along with the one
that rules your destiny. Though small in
magnitude, it is perfectly diseernsble ; and
so near your own, that your rays seem to
lend brightness to its humility. See ! yon
der it lies!” and as he spoke, he pointed to
the constellation, where this minor light had
shone before, although probably unnoticed.
“Is it possible 1 Can it he so 1” cried
Eric, vvitli a countenance radiant with joy;
“ the fates have then united our destinies ;”
he half-audibly added, and gazed with pro
longed transport on the starry concave.—
Then, as if fearing he had said too much, he
hade Burraeus a hurried farewell, and retir
ing to his chamber, was soon lost in a deli
cious reverie.
On the following morning, Eric made ear
ly inquiries after Catharine, and learned
that she had quite recovered from the con
tusion, which might have proved so fatal,
and that she was now desirous of returning
to bet friends, who, anxious, waited her ap
pearance at the palace gate.
“ Leave her to me ! I will myself con
verse with her,” exclaimed the king, as,
waving the messenger aside, he hurried to
the apartment, where Catharine was now
waiting his summons to depart.
We will not enter fully into the conversa
tion which |iasscd between the imprudent
monarch, and the timid yet graceful maiden.
In vain did she bring forward each argu
ment to convince him of the propriety of
relinquishing her to her anxious relatives:
with tears of affectionate solicitude, she des
cribed the condition of her need grand-fath
er, now that he was separated from her, who
wasthe comfort of hisexistenee ; with blush
ing earnestness, she revealed the important
assistance which her industry gave to the
sustenance of her family; and when all
failed, she meekly clasped her hands on her
bosom, and stood waiting the monarch’s
decision.
“I know that it is but natural that you
should desire to return to your friends,” ob
served Eric mildly; “ but listen to me, and
do not, in your heart, accuse me of treache
ry, until you hear me totheend. No doubt,
you are aware that I am superstitious ; for
the people are generally informed on the
weaknesses of their sovereign. Yesterday,
. when I saw you lying near my palace-gate,
something whispered me, that destiny re
quired me to take an uncommon interest in
your fate; I knew you but as a child of my
father’s faithful soldier, but beneath this
humble garb I recognised graces, which fit
ted you for the abode of a king. It seem
ed that fortune had made a mistake, when it
confined you to a cottage, instead of giving
you the range of a palace ; and I immedi
ately resolved to repair its unjust penalty.
Let me then enjoy the happiness of raising
one humble flower from its obscurity ; if
you consent, I will establish you within
these walls—you shall receive all the ad
vantages of education which my sister en
joys ; and no one shall disturb your tran
quility, for 1 will he your protector, and if
yon allow it, your friend.”
The agitated Catharine could not give
utterance to the feelings that were eager to
break from her parted lips ; throwing her
self at Eric’s feet, she raised her streaming
blue eyes to his face, as she half articulated,
“My grandfather! my brother! what will
become of them ?”
“ Have no fears respecting them,” repli
ed Eric hurriedly; “accept what I now
propose, and I will not fail to give them ev
ery assistance,” and before the timid girl
could rise from her kneeling posture, the
young monarch smiled kindly on her, and
said farewell.
Chapter V.
“ Thou nrt most rich being poor ;
Thee and thy virtues, here I seize upon.”
On this very day, the Secretary of State
received orders to double the pay of Cor
poral Mons, a benefit which won ready ac
knowledgement from that officer. A home
in one of the state castles was also ofteied
Catharine’s grandfather; but a violent tor
rent of indignation streamed from his lips,
as he declared that not for life itself would
he accept any aid from the hands that had
seized on his beloved child, and after a loud
hurst of passion, he concluded by invoking
heaven’s curses on the being who had thus
trifled with his peace of mind.
Catharine knew nothing of the old man’s
distress, for she had been informed through
a special messenger, that he was calm and
apparently satisfied with the change; know
ing that she would thus enjoy those advan
tages of education, for which she had long
pitied. Giving only a few hours to admira
tion of self, asshe exchanged her coaise dress
of a velvet robe, she entered the apartments
for the Princess, who had kindly promised
to direct her education ; and nothing could
exceed the industry with which she soon
prosecuted her fascinating studies.
The king often visited her apartment,
where these lessons were received. As he
was an excellent musician, he especially
delighted in marking the improvement of his
protege in that branch, and when she sung
with touching plaintiyeness some love-dittv,
or ebaunted the lays of her own fair coun
try, they fell on liis ear like celestial music,
and his heart thrilled with joy and agitation.
Yet no word of love ever passed from
Eric’s lips, though lie felt his passion hour
ly increasing. It was pleasure enough to
watch the warm blush that mantled Catha
rine’s check, with liis approaching footsteps;
or to catch the glance of her modest eye, as
she caught the encouraging words and
smiles he freely lavished upon her.
Ati occasion soon presented itself for
more open demonstrations of affection, and
Eric was not backward in seizing on the
opportunity. It was one evening, when the
Princess and Catharine, attended by the
king, were taking their usual walk along the
banks of Lake Maelar. As they trod the
flowery pathway, where the branches of the
lurch met overhead, while all was so still
that no one leaf moved on the foliage, and
the northern nightingale breathed its love
song to the night without fear of molesta
tion—Catharine’s spirit rose with the scene;
she recalled with artless earnestness the
days of her girlhood, when she had sat down
to rest beneath these very trees, after con
cluding her flower sale; and although a
shade of melancholy might he observed in
her face, as she fondly dwelt on her rela
tives, vviio, strange as it appeared to her,
she was not allowed to visit, she soon shook
off’ her sadness, so as not to appear ungrate
ful to her benefactor.
As the stars came out, one by one, In the
fluid depths of ether, Eric gently drew
Catharine to his side, and for some time
they contemplated the scene in silence.—
“ Catharine, the king, first breaking
this long pause, “ do you know that in yon
der stars I have read your fate, as well as
mine own ?” The maiden looked up into
his face with smiling credulity, but made no
inquiry. “ There arc many,” continued
Eric, “ who ridicule the study of astrology;
but nothing appears more reasonable, to my
mind, than its truth. Methinks it is far bet
ter to trust to yonder bright intelligences,
than to the predictions of men, ignorant like
ourselves. Would you believe it, maiden,
on the first evening of our meeting, I was
induced to visit my observatory; and in
yonder blue space, I discovered a star near
my own natal one, which bore to me the
semblance of yourself. Something then.
whispered that y'uir love might he won ; yet
although I am king of this wide realm, T
feared until now to ask the heart of one of
its lowliest maidens : but, Catharine, I can
delay no longer ; tamper not with tny feel
ings, but tell me, do the stars speak falsely,
and will you reject the love in which so ma
ny would exult ?”
The terrifiedjnaiden fell at the king’s feet,
and gave vent to a passionate hurst of grief,
as she besought him not to think of raising
her from the station in which she was born.
She revealed to him the yearnings with
which she still looked for a return to her
former home ; she recalled his first promise
of being her protector, and, “ oh 1” she ex
claimed, “urge me not to a measure, which
can bring happiness to neither of us. As
the ruler of this kingdom, it is not fitting
that you should wed the daughter of a poor
soldier; your subjects expect better things
from you ; and what would be their anger,
should they learn of your misjudged inten
tions.”
“ You mistake, Catharine,” replied the
king, hurriedly; “ such an union, if private,
would conduce greatly to the happiness of
my people. Before 1 felt the influence of
your presence, 1 yielded to thoso sudden
bursts of passion, whose results always drove
me to despair ; happiness was known to me
only by name; and 1 was often tempted to
throw away the life, which had become bur
densome ; but a merciful Providence sent
me, in you, the harp that has subdued all
those evil dispositions ; a ray of light has
broken into the darkness of my soul, and if
deprived of your love, 1 feel that 1 must
yield with tenfold strength to temptation,
and who knows to what sad fate my mad
ness may lead me.”
With many such prayers and arguments,
the king urged his suit; until, after long
pe.rsuation, the yielding maiden allowed her
heart to decide against her judgment, and
consented to an immediate hut secret union.
Chapter VI.
“From diet I will not Mile
What thoughts, in my unquiet breast, are risen.”
Some months elapsed after the above
mentioned event, and although Catharine
still received from the king the most sub
stantial tokens of affection, yet there were
moments when she yielded to deep melan
choly, ns she reflected on the probable sor
rows of her grandfather, and her apparent
desertion; for the king was so jealous of
her love towards her relatives, as to forbid
her the shortest interview, although she was
weekly infurmed of the old man’s continued
health.
As she was one morning sitting in listless
idleness, at the window of ati apartment
overlooking the lake, she was startled by
the notes of a song, sung by a familiar voice.
On raising the curtain, she ohsei veil a small
skiff lying iu the shadow of the palace,
wherein sat one, who was muffled in a
fisherman’s cloak, but whom she immediate
ly recognised as her friend, Maximilian.
For a inomeut, she was almost afraid to
| NUMBER 31.
W. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR.
address him ; and was actually about to re
tire from tha casement, when the figure ex
tended liis hand, as if pleadingly, and mur
mured her name in a soft voice.
“ For God’s sake! what do you here?”
exclaimed the terrified Catharine; who
was well assured of the watchfulness of the
king’s guard ; “ are you not aware that yon
are liable to detection every moment ?”
“ I know it,” answered Max., sadly; “but
I leave Stockholm to-morrow, and I could
uot depart without seeing you once more.”
“ And where areyou going ?” asked Cath
erine.
“ I go with your brother to join the army,
which is about marching against the Danes;
and who knows, Catherine, but that we may
both fall in battle, and never meet again.—
But why do I speak of myself, when I have
come to repeat to you a message from ”
“ From my deargrandfatber. Ah ! Max.,
tell me all about him,” exclaimed Catherine.
“ They say that he is calm and contented ih
his present lonely state; but sometimes my
heart reproves me. and I fancy that it may
not he so.”
“ Now curses on the foul lips that speak
such falsehood,” exclaimed Max., striking
his oar on the water in his indignation.—
“ From the morning of your disappearance,
the old man’s r.pirits failed him entirely; his
memory became disturbed; and when I
stept in to comfort him, as I often did, his
first question would be ‘Have you seen her ;
Max. ? Have you yet discovered the dear
child V and when 1 would reply in the ne
gative, lie would fall bock in his chair, and
sink into the reverie which lasted the entire
day.”
“ Oh ! that the king would but allow me
to see him,” cried Catherine, in a voice brok
en with sobs ; “ stay, Max., if you ever lov
ed me, stay hut for a moment, and I will
plead with him to allow me hut one inter
view ;” and she was about to spring from
the window, for the immediate execution of
her plan.
“ Catherine,” said the young soldier, in
sympathising tones, “ there is no need for
such a request; you must not think of go
ing home any more.”
“Nay! can it be that lie refuses to see
me ? Would he drive his penitent child
with curses from his side? Ah ! no,it is not
so; my heart tells me that his first word
would he a blessing.”
“ Ah! Catherine, the good old soldier
will never again bless you in this world,”
sighed Max., softly.
“ All ! speak quickly, he is ill; perhaps
lie is dying,” sobbed his alarmed compan
ion.
“He is dead,” replied Max., in accents
of grief and compassion.
“ Dead ! dead ! then I was liis murderer.
I have killed him !” shrieked the wretched
girl, as, wringing her hands convulsively,
she sank fainting ou the floor.
Chapiter VII.
“ Why, this is magic, and it breaks liis bonds,
It gives him freedom.”
No one can imagine the bitter feelings,
with which Catherine reviewed all the acts
of deceit and prevarication, which had been
employed against her by the minions of her
husband ; and, as she had every reason to
believe, at his own suggestions. Although
silent on the subject of her injuries, Eric
could not but observe the alteration of her
manners towards himself; thceagerness with
which she avoided all conversation, and the
gloom that hung over her usually cheerful
spirits. Instead of erdeavoring to soothe
her wounded sensibility, he, too, seemed
desirous of shunning her companionship;
and, separated from her good influences,’
Persson and Burraeus were again received
into favor.
Anxious to seize on the opportunity
which the king’s ill-nature presented, these
councillors brought forth accusatious against
several of the nobility, and especially against
Store, one of the richest and most devoted
subjects of the crown. Sturc was imme
diately seized, aud confined in the prison of
Upsal; the Diet was convoked to sit in
judgment; and although the proofs against
Idm were by no means conclusive, yet, fear
ing the anger of the king, and the treache
ry of his chief councillors, they yielded to
their timidity, and sentenced him to death.
Eric, however, shrank from the execu
tion of the sentence, and he had even deter
mined to ask forgiveness of the aged Count
for having imprisoned him, when Persson,
wlio trembled for the consequences of such
a meeting, contrived just then to raise fresh
suspicions against him ; and anew plot was
hinted at, in which he was engaged.
Aroused by new fury, Eric gave orders
for the immediate execution of the sentence:
hut scarcely was the deed done, when he
was attacked by one of those paroxysms of
remorse, which always deprived him of his
reason. Unseen by his attendants, he rush
ed front the palace, and prest to the thick
woods surrounding Stockholm, as if there
to hide himself fiom observation. But
conscience would not be quieted; at every
step his despair redoubled ; he called him
self the murderer of his father’s faithful
friend ; and tearing off his royal garments,
he demanded a peasant’s garb, as if hoping
by this outward change to alter bis inner
feelings. The cry of his victim seemed T
ever ringing in his ear; every tree, to bis
excited imagination, became a spectre; and
every breeze a death-knell.
After some hours of anxious search, tbo