THE

LITTLE

LUTE-PLAYER:

A German Story in an English Dress.

CHAPTER II.

"MY CHILD! my child! give me my little Ada!"—were the first words of the Countess when she regained the power of speech. Sir Harteck tenderly placed her little creature in her mother's arms.

"Thank God that my darling lives!" said the rejoicing mother, as she pressed the still terrified Ada to her bosom. "And have not the wicked men done thee any harm, my jewel?"

"Your child is unharmed, noble lady," said Harteck, "I thank God, who sent me at the right time to rescue her from my headstrong soldiers."

"This knightly service demands my warmest gratitude,” replied Theolinda. "May Heaven reward you!"

"Beautiful lady," returned Harteck with a smile, "it is in your power to grant a fitting recompense. Reward me with the permission to remain your protector and defender in this your castle!"

"You are a merciful victor, Sir Harteck," returned she with a sickly smile, "to beg as a favour what you might demand of right. My house is now your own; but I much fear that the plunderer and the destroyer have left you small chance of comfort."

"Make yourself easy on that score, fair lady!" said Harteck gaily. "I promise to be a very contented guest, and let me assure you, that no one regrets more than I do the havoc which has been made. To restrain the greediness of the

soldiers would have been quite beyond my power, for the plunder of every castle that has been taken by storin, is by the customs of war invariably given over to the troops. Rest assured, however, that so long as I remain here, no evil shall befall either you or yours. I give you my word of honour as a true knight."

So saying, he left the room, and issued commands to his soldiers to cease their plunder, to put the place in some degree of order, and to station before the door a guard who should inform all comers that the captain dwelt there, and had taken the castle under his direction.

For some time, Harteck treated Theolinda with the most delicate consideration, and lost no opportunity of conciliating her good-will. It soon appeared, however, that all this was but a well-prepared plan to force the Countess into a marriage with himself. When the truth first dawned upon the Countess, she was terribly alarmed and distressed-but, a Christian in heart and soul, she had recourse to that blessed privilege and delight of all lovers of their Saviour-prayer. "Merciful Father!" she exclaimed, on her knees, in her lowly chamber, "take from me every thing else, but grant me still the light of Thy Holy Spirit. Let me not fall into the snare which is laid by the ungodly, and so lose the help of Thy countenance, and the peace of my conscience. Lead me in safety along the path of suffering which thou hast prepared for me to walk in."

Many and many a time did the pious Theolinda, thus lift up her heart to God, and always received comfort and support sufficient for her daily need. Though still tormented by Harteck, she took comfort in the society of her little Ada,

whose education was now the chief solace and constant occu

pation of her dreary life.

She now began to instruct the tender child in the first rudiments of the Christian religion. "Learn, my darling, first of all," she used to say, " to love God with all your soul, and strength, for all the beautiful things you see before you, were created by Him out of nothing, and are the gifts of His love, the pledge of His favour towards us. He has placed you in this world that you may serve Him truly here below, and after this life is done, sing His praises and rejoice in His love, in the endless ages that are to come. If we have to bear much trouble and sorrow here below, it will fare the better with us in the world above, if we have borne it all with patience and cheerfulness, and in obedience to the will of God. But not only must we love God first and best: we must love all our fellow-creatures, who, like ourselves, are the work of His hand; and that, not in word only, but in deed and in truth. We must help them when they are in any need or sickness, by any means in our power,-when they hunger we must feed them, when they thirst give them drink, when they are naked we must clothe them, when they are sad at heart we must try to comfort them."

Ada listened to her mother's words with fond attention, and her little heart, early warmed with love and gratitude to God and sympathy towards her fellow-creatures, she gladly gave alms of her slender store, and used to delight in sharing her own sparing meals with the sick and starving around her. If any thing more daintly than usual appeared at her mother's table, she would often refuse to partake of it, and after dinner was over, obtain permission to take her portion to some sick neighbour.

All this while Sir Grimo was planning how best he might by cunning accomplish his concealed wishes.

One evening as she sat alone in her room, amusing herself by playing some simple airs upon the lute, an unwonted feeling of sadness took possession of her. A mysterious foreboding of evil oppressed her, and she was in vain attempting to calm her flittering heart by soothing thoughts of the watchful providence of God, when a stranger knight entered, and said gently, with an air of apology for his hasty intrusion,"Pardon me, noble lady, for being the bearer of evil tidings!"

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Speak, speak!" said the terrified Countess, "say what has happened!-hide nothing from me! You are come to tell me that my husband, the Lord of Hohenfels, has been found dead upon the field—that I am a widow-and my little daughter a helpless orphan!"

"Even so," replied the stranger, "yes, noble lady, your husband is no more. He died a hero's death, fighting for his father-land. When he was carried from the field mortally wounded, I was hastening to procure for him some medical treatment, but he detained me, saying, "Kunibert, my hours are numbered, I must soon leave this world, and stand in the presence of my Maker. When I am dead, hasten to Hohenfels, and take my wife this marriage-ring. Thank her in my name, for all her love, and-here speech failed him, and casting one humble, trusting look to heaven, he fell asleep! I took the ring from his stiffened finger, and immediately set out for Hohenfels." So saying, the stranger pressed the ring to the afflicted Countess, who pale and tottering, like a lily broken from its stem, had fallen back in her seat.

"Oh God! support me," gasped she. "How can I bear this terrible blow? Is then the terrible foreboding of my heart so quickly confirmed? Am I indeed a widow, and my little Ada a helpless orphan! Ah! woe is me!"

This terrible confirmation of her worst fears was too much for the enfeebled frame of the poor lady. A long and dangerous illness was the result of the shock she had sustained, and she was confined to her bed for many weeks. As soon as she began to recover, she summoned to her bed her little Ada and the faithful Jacob.

M. A. J.

LITURGICAL LESSONS.-No. VIII.

THE ABSOLUTION, OR REMISSION OF SINS.

THE word Absolution is derived from the Latin solvo, to loose, and the prefix ab, from; it is a loosing or freeing from the punishment of sin, or pardoning.

I. Notice by whom it is pronounced, "the priest alone," as being an ambassador of God, to whom He hath committed the "ministry of reconciliation," 2 Cor. v. 18,-" by the priest standing as an act of authority, and received by the people kneeling in token of the humility and reverence with which they ought to receive the joyful news of pardon from God."* To His ministers "He hath given power and commandment," &c. This was first conferred upon the apostles-by them afterwards given to their successors, (see, St. Matt. xvi. 19; xviii. 18; St. John, xx. 22, 23; 1 Cor. v. 4, 5; 1 Tim. i. 20;

* Wheatley.