an ostrich feather was worth a duchy. Quick as lightning he went up the winding stairs of the turret, and a moment afterwards the affrighted bride descended trembling in his arms. The noise awakened the count from his morning slumber, and when, opening the window of his bed room, he saw coaches and horses, knights and men at arms in the court yard—his daughter in the arms of a stranger, who after lifting her into the wedding carriage, left with the whole train by the castle gate, his heart sank within him, and he began to lament loudly. “Adieu, my dear daughter! Adieu, thou bride of a bear!” Wulfield heard the voice of her father, and waived an adieu with her handkerchief from the carriage window.
The parents were saddened by the loss of their daughter, and looked at each other in silent consternation. The countess did not believe her own eyes, and thought the abduction of her daughter nothing but a trick of the devil. Taking a bunch of keys she ran up to the watch tower, and opened the cell in the hope of finding Wulfield there, but she saw neither her daughter nor anything belonging to her. On the table she perceived a silver key, and looking through the dormer distinguished at a distance a cloud of dust ascending towards the east,
