Father Christopher lingered long at his prayers on the wedding morning. There was in his heart so deep concern for the good of his beloved mistress, and so keenly did he feel the responsibility which rested upon him as the spiritual head of the castle, that he could not but be most profoundly anxious that naught of evil should come of this marriage.

The good priest was not without a secret consciousness that his consent to the union of Erna and Albrecht had been in no small degree due to the interest which the knight had aroused in him. He could not tell why he was so strongly attracted toward the stranger, and he endeavored to convince himself that it was because he recognized in Albrecht the possibilities of a high and spiritual life, and believed that it lay within the sphere of Erna's influence to bring these possibilities to fruition. The fascination of Albrecht's personality was so great, however, that it followed the man even into his closet, and made him secretly glad that the knight should have his will, whether it was to be justified to the mind of the priest or not.

It was still early in the morning, but from below the sounds of the preparations for the wedding rose to Father Christopher's ear. Somewhere over in the tower next to that in which was his cell, there sounded the tinkling of a rebec, as if one of the musicians were practising the minstrelsy with which the bridal pair were to be attended to church, and from the court below came the lusty voice of a knave that heeded not who slept, but sang in a full, lusty voice a rude song of the forest. The priest repeated his orisons, but it was hard to keep his thoughts fixed. Sighing, he rose at last from his knees.

"God grant I have not done amiss in consenting to this marriage," he said to himself. "At least I shall soon know how it lies with the soul of Sir Albrecht, for he comes to me for confession before the marriage. When I have shrived him I shall be lighter-hearted, albeit, God knows, I trust to find no evil in him. Even though, he added in his thought, I much misdoubt me of Herr von Zimmern, who has been his foster-father."

The sun was half-way to noon when Albrecht, with his firm, free stride, crossed the castle courtyard to join Father Christopher in the chapel, as had been arranged between them when the priest had requested the knight to receive shrift before he was united in marriage with Erna. The baron's bearing had in it little of that humility which might have seemed becoming in one who was on his way to confess his sins. His handsome head was carried well erect, and there was in his eye not only the joy of the bridegroom, but also a mischievous sparkle as of one who apprehends some merry jest which is forward. As he walked rapidly across the court, he hummed to himself under his breath a merry tune, ill suited to his pious errand.

The gloom and cool quiet of the chapel, as he entered the sacred place, checked for the moment Albrecht's song, and he went more soberly up the aisle between the rudely sculptured forms of dead and gone Von Rittenbergs, recumbent on their tombs in dismal state, until he found himself face to face with Father Christopher, who stood awaiting his penitent at the chancel. The chapel had already been decorated for the bridal, which indeed was to take place in little more than an hour's time, and all the air was fragrant with the odors of the boughs of pine. The damsel Elsa, who had had always a liking for the baron, and who liked him none the less since the kiss he had given her in the hall for her love-song, had taken it upon herself to see that the chapel was properly adorned and her skill and taste were alike evident from the result.

"I have kept thee waiting long, Father," Albrecht said, as he approached the priest; "but my servitor, whose illness was the cause of my first coming to the castle, is once more stricken down, and in the delirium of his fever he called for me so piteously that his fellow could not forbear to fetch me to his bedside. He believes, in his madness, that he is beset by wolves, and that none else save his master may avail to preserve him."

"It indeed waxes late," Father Christopher answered, "and it is well on toward an hour since the countess left me here. I have passed the time in prayers for her and thee, and perchance thou hast not so long a list of sins to confess that there will be lack of time, although it draweth toward noon and the hour of marriage."

As he spoke he moved toward the confessional, and with an expression of gravity which was new to him, the knight followed; but just at the moment when Albrecht kneeled to begin the recital of whatever transgressions might lie on his conscience, there arose without a horrid din, which penetrated the sacred place, rudely breaking up the stillness of the consecrated shrine. The leathern curtains which hung before the entrance were flung rudely aside, and with piercing cries a half-naked figure rushed forward, waving its arms and calling for help most piteously.

Albrecht and the priest both sprang to their feet, startled and amazed at this unexpected interruption; and the fleeing figure rushed down the nave to fling itself at the feet of the baron, where it knelt, clasping his knees and revealing in the dull light the disordered features of the fever-stricken man-at-arms.

"The wolves, Master!" he shrieked in accents of terror. "Save me! Save me!"

Down the aisle of the chapel came limping the sinister figure of Herr von Zimmern, who seemed to be in pursuit of the sick man.

"I tried to stop him," he said, with a singular smile which brought a sudden frown to Albrecht's brow, "but he escaped from me, and because of my infirmity I could not keep pace with him. He is stark mad till this fit passes, but after, he will perchance be as well-witted as ever he has been."

He stooped over the sick man, and endeavored to persuade him to allow himself to be led away; but the man-at-arms could not be torn from his hold upon the knees of Albrecht, to whom he clung with the desperate clutch of a wretch who clings for life to some last hope.

"It is useless," Father Christopher said, after they had for some moments united their efforts in a vain endeavor to bring the sick man to reason. "He is too fully possessed by his fears and the madness of his sickness to be within the reach of our words. He will yield to no one save to the baron, and unless thou art willing, Sir Knight, to lead him back to his chamber, I know not if he may not remain here till the very hour set for thy marriage. It would but ill accord with the place to use violence, and he is not minded to quit his hold on thee."

The madman had by this time thrown himself upon the pavement, as with heart-rending cries he called upon his master to rescue him in his peril, and not to leave him to be devoured alive. His yells had called half the servants of the castle to the spot, and the more superstitious of them crossed themselves in fear at sight of an omen so doubtful and fearful on the morn of their mistress' wedding day. They whispered together of their fears, and some of them recalled the signs which had attended the coming of the baron to the castle.

"The wood-folk are wroth," one old crone whispered to her favorite gossip. "They have smitten the churl, and who knows what power they may have over the master? Holy Wood of the Cross, but I fear me for the well-born countess!"

The confusion every moment waxed greater. The sick man had torn off his clothing until he grovelled upon the cold stone floor wellnigh as naked as he had been born, while his powerful hands, as yet all unwasted by his sickness, were clasped about the legs of Albrecht with a grip like that of the mountain bear in its fury when the huntsmen have reft away its cubs and it clutches the dogs in a last desperate struggle.

Herr von Zimmern stooped down and took the man-at-arms strongly by the shoulder.

"Come!" he cried in a deep, penetrating voice; "we must get away. The gracious baron will save thee, only thou must go with him away from this place of danger."

The sick man seemed to comprehend, for he loosed his hold and sprang to his feet.

"Go with him, my son," Father Christopher said. "Mercy comes before even a sacrament, and none save thee can lead this madman to his chamber."

"But my shrift?" demanded Albrecht, half under his breath.

"Thou must needs be married without it," the priest responded. "But I charge thee," he added solemnly, speaking so that his words reached the ears of the baron only, "if thou hast aught of crime on thy conscience, that thou do not betray the Lady Erna into a union with thy sin."

The young man looked straightforwardly into the eyes of the old priest, as in the same tone he answered:

"If it be not a sin to desire her love and to long more than for life to be lifted toward heaven by her, I have no sin on my conscience, Father."

The priest raised his hand in blessing, and the bystanders, although they knew nothing of the import of the words which had hastily passed between him and the knight, understood the motion, and bowed their heads in reverence. Albrecht as if struck with sudden awe fell upon his knees, and so received the benediction which served him instead of shrift on his wedding day. Then rising he took the arm of the demented man-at-arms, who for the moment seemed somewhat more quiet, perhaps through exhaustion, and so led him away, all the bystanders following until the chapel, with its stony knights in eternal rest, its fragrance of pine boughs and of forest flowers, was left for a little deserted.