The mountain Democrat., 1865-01-14

ed 10 yield to her skill or her prayers,
none could tell which. Numbers of sick,
particularly those afflicted in the eyes,
were healed by her, and even some blind
people regained their sight through her
meanG Do what she would, these cures
could not remain long secret, and as she
glided along on her errands Of mercy,
men pointed her out to each other, gazing
treVerently on the wan beauty Of hsv eaFLi
nest face, and calling down Gods CHOICEST
blessings on the banished northern queen.
Pilgrims from her own land saw her and
heard Of her cures, and returning. told
the people at home. Her memory was
still cherished among them, and many Q
household grOaned under TalaBd's tyFaa.
gicaI exactions.
For a short. time he had enjoyed the
full triumph Of his Wickedness, when, by,
some strange visitation, bis hitherto keen
sight began to fail him, and his life. was
rendered wretched by painful and loath.
some disorder Of the eyes. The royal
physicians. had employed all their herbs
and simples TO no purpose. Tho voice Of
conscience, sti1ed in happier hours, now
upbraided him without ceasing. AS sick
and alone he sat in the gloom Of darkened
chambers, ,brooding on that helpless blind
ness fast growing on him, be used to fancy
that Hildegarde'S face peered at him from
the darkness, not as he had last seen it,
touching in its patient anguish, but now
mocking and gibing, now glaring at him
fercely triumphant. He could not sleep
at night, and Fifty times he started from
his bed TO grope his way to his brothers
room, tell all, and be quit Of his victims
haunting presence, were the moment Of
avowal to be his last. But when he came
to the point, he woNld chide himself for
such sickly fancies, and 20 on stoutly,
bearing his burden Of guilt. He kept his
own counsel TIL the last glimmer of sight
had left him, and he was stone blind
Then the pilgrims tales Of Hildegarde's
wonderful cures kept constantly recurring
to his mind. To be healed by her, even
at the cost Of having to confess his guilt,
became his ruling wish. He was so sick
Of life, such as his then was, that he cared
little about putting it ir jeopardy for the
chance Of seeing once more. 1t was with
feelings Of intense relief that he heard that
business Of great import summoned Char
lemagne to Rome. Taland so besought
him to permit him to accompany him,
that the Emperor could not refuse his en-.
treaties; though, in truth, the great EN-.
peror was sorely puzzled to know how
Ilildegarde, if guilty, could be such friend
with God that lie should grant her the
gift Of healing; and, if innocent. how she
could eyer be induced to cure Taland, who
had hunted her down as the hound hunts
the quarry. In his heart the husband
longed to think her guitless despite the
seeming proofs Of crime, he could not al
ways believe her quite lost. Her last
looks and words, her previous blameless
life, perpetually upbraided him with vio-
leLce, rashness and haste. Of all these
jarring thoughts he said nothing then, nor
do We hear ought of the journey.
No sooner had the Emperor and his
train reached Rome, than Taland sent to
seek after llildegarde, whose lonely dwell.
ing was easily found. Cunning as he was,
he did not know that his footsteps were
dogged, and that his too trusting brother
had at last begun to suspect him. Taland
had himself guided to the dilapidated old
maEsion where his victim had fixed her
abode. His attendants had left him, and
he deemed himself alone in the great old
hall where the sick were wont to await
her coming. He little knew who tracked
him thither, and stood but few PAGES
back. They were alone, and it was rs
much as Charlcmagne could do to keep
his hands off Taland to force an avowal
from him. However, he restrained him.
self, but his huEried breathing did not es.
cape the blind mans hearing. "Who is
there = asked Taland. There was no re-
ply but thus warned Of the need Of more
caution, Charlcmagne stepped warily into
the deep shadow Of pillared door,
These two men waited minutes, which to
them seemed hours, then they heard q
light step, and IIildcgarde-wan, worn,
but beautiful, with the peace Of God beam.
ing from her facce-stood before them
She did not know Talapd who stood with
his back to the light. with his face and
figure muffled in cloak.
Poor man." said she, in the Frankish
tongue, "thcy tell me thou comest from
the father!and; know ye auGht Of my
children ?"
LADY, they are well; for love OF them,
bcSecch thee, heal mel"
Good God, man, art thou Taland 7"
cried the lady sprinsing toward him. She
pulled the mantle down, and scanned his
face. One searching look and she was
rushing from him, but he clutched her
gown and fell down on his knees.
finland me, Taland :"
Still he held her fast. "Oh, lady, hear
me for the Saviour's sake. God has in
deed Judged between us. and He struck
me blind but if thou ask Him, he will
give me sight. Have pity on a helpless
man !"
She stood motionless, and he let go her
gown, and groveled at her feet.
"Blind- helpless" she murmured-
"blind-helpless- for the Saviour's sake" )"
She said his words again, like one speak
ing in sleep. She seemed striving to re-
call their import, to realize the change
that made her bitterest foe suppliant at
her feet.
i'Oh, Taland," she cried aloud, "what
did ever do to thee that thou hast stolen
my husbands love and reft me Of my lit.
tie ones T.
The blind man only heard the spoken
words. Wildly, despairingly, he called
out:
Woman, hast thou no mercy2 Hide
garde, look at me; hast thou no pity left
Look at the wreck | am now, and all thy
doing. Why didst thou spurn my love
until it grew to very hate, and for revenge
| forged the lies that stole thy good name
from thee; and then because of this wrong
to thee, God sDote me in his wrath. Oh,
Hildegarde, by that fierce love ! bore thee,
that love mine own undOing as it too was
thine, coniure thee let me see. Let me