TALES AND LEGENDS OF SAXONY

AND LUSATIA.

THE MAIDEN OF THE MOOR.

A LEGEND OF LUSATIA.

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embayed window of the banqueting-hall of Gottmar Castle stood Falcon von Gottmar, contemplating in

melancholy reverie the vast and farspreading domains of which he was the undisputed lord and master. High woodlands, crowned with rugged and gigantic masses of granite, rich and fertile valleys, picturesque villages, sparkling meadows and blooming corn-fields, wide heath and barren moor-the fine old castle itself, with its lordly turrets and coronetted battlements,

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its servants and retainers-all were his. His, too, the pomp, circumstance, and power, that appertained to the position of a great German noble of the middle ages. And Falcon was young and handsome, tall and stalwart, and though, with his white, cloudy hair and deep blue eyes, he had in moments of repose a somewhat dreamy look, animation or excitement imparted to his features a wild and attractive beauty, that, together with his courteous manner and generous character, made him the idol alike of friends and dependents. And yet he was not happy! Deep care sat upon his brow, sad forebodings quenched the brightness of his countenance. His thoughts were of the curse that so long had blighted and now had so nearly destroyed his ancient race—a race of antiquity so great that it numbered amongst its ancestors the last high priest of the Wendish god, Mahr.

For many generations no direct heir had been born to the house of Gottmar-a cruel and malignant fate forbad the barons of the house, under a terrible penalty, ever to marry. Their brides never failed to meet, generally on the very eve of their nuptials, with a sudden, often a violent death; and such a

catastrophe the bridegrooms were never known long to survive.

The honours of the house had descended to the collateral branches, and of these Falcon was the last representative; he had succeeded to the title and estates on the death of his cousin, who, together with his intended wife, had been killed by a stroke of lightning on the day before their intended marriage. The curse was all the more dreaded as its origin was unknown; the same mystery shrouded alike its cause and the means of evading its consequences.

"And all this is mine, mine, to be enjoyed companionless and alone, to pass to strangers when I die!" exclaimed Falcon aloud, striking his brow with his hand. "And not to know the cause! Even to criminals and malefactors is it given to know for what, and why they are punished. But I!—I am compelled to forego the pleasures of love, the honours of paternity, the duty of perpetuating an ancient and honourable house, and wherefore? Surely Heaven is unjust!"

"Not so, my dear Falcon! Heaven is never really unjust; we are blind and erring mortals, surrounded