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Page 74
"Sandrit of Stramen, you know the rest. You know that we swore to have
seen the Lord of Hers ride away from the fatal spot just before we found
the body. It was the fact; but my lover and I were perjured in the sight
of God. I do not wish to lighten my crime before men, when it is written
out so plainly against me before Angels. I was a perjured
woman--perjured through love and fear. I heard you swear vengeance. I
wept, but I was silent. I saw your fury and your wars. My heart bled,
but I was silent. There was no rest, no sleep, no peace for me. It was
not my husband's death that drove me mad. Oh, no! It was remorse. There
were spectres all around me--I trembled before the innocent, fled
before the guilty. The caresses of my child that died at my breast
tortured me. I felt as though my breath had withered and defiled it.
Every hour was full of misery--day and night there was a gnawing at my
heart. At last my mind gave way, and the justice of heaven struck him
with death and me with madness!"
Bertha paused an instant, quite exhausted, then again exerting herself,
she said:
"I do not ask you to forgive me--but forgive each other."
"They have forgiven each other already," said Father Omehr. "They are
friends."
"Friends?"
"The Lady Margaret reconciled them on her death-bed."
"The Lady Margaret dead!"
"She was buried this morning."
"Yes," said Bertha, "it was to her funeral I was going. Yes, she is
dead--the beautiful, the young, the innocent--she has been praying for
me in heaven."
At these words a smile beamed over her sharp features, and she sank
gradually back in bed, lowered by Henry and the missionary.
The proud Lord of Hers was, in spirit, in sackcloth and ashes. He
attributed the existence of the feud to his indiscretion and guilt, and
reproached himself with all its pernicious consequences. He saw in the
wreck before him the fruits of his sin; Bertha's misery and madness
seemed wholly his own unhallowed work. The strong man shuddered at the
consequences of his folly, and beat his breast, and wept like a child.
Sandrit of Stramen also accused himself of having caused the feud by his
rash credulity, and driven Bertha to perjury and insanity by his
impetuous and uncontrollable temper. For, he reasoned, had she reposed
any confidence in his justice and charity, she would have told the
truth.
Henry of Stramen saw that all his brilliant achievements against the
family of Hers were only unjustifiable murders and robberies, and his
haughty spirit was humbled and contrite.
Father Omehr saw their contrition, but he was entirely absorbed in the
penitent Bertha.
Bertha lived three days after the revelation, constantly engaged in
prayer and acts of contrition. Her profound sorrow affected and edified
the missionary and all the neighborhood. On the third day she received
the Viaticum, and expired in the arms of the Baron of Stramen, who,
together with the Lord of Hers, had repeatedly assured her of their
complete forgiveness. Her last words were: "I know she is praying for me
in heaven."
She was buried, as she desired, near the Lady Margaret, with nothing but
a rude wooden cross to mark her grave.
On the day after her burial, Father Omehr and the three nobles set out
for the Castle of Hers. Humbert had already fitted up for his lord some
rooms which had been only partially consumed, and Albert of Hers had
prevailed upon the baron and his son to remain with him until they could
find suitable lodgings at home. The reconciliation between the nobles
was complete; and at sunrise the next day they could be seen kneeling
together before the altar of the Pilgrim's Chapel, eating the Bread of
Life. If the Angels rejoice at such a sight, how much greater must be
the joy of the Saints!
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