Part 16

“Like enough,” responded a third; “and if it could be put off altogether, I don’t think any one would be sorry; for, after all, what has this Hugo done, to have his head chopped off? There are more worse than better men, I’ll be bound.”

“Yes,” said the first cautiously, “and I, for my part, would gladly help to set him free, if it could be done.”

“Aye,” responded the second, “but how is that to be accomplished?”

“I will tell you, good friends,” interrupted Ernest, “I will set him free, if you will only help me.”

“You, young man? How will you do it?”

“Come close to me, and I will tell you my plan.”

The citizens crowded about Ernest, who in a very low voice told them a plan which had just occurred to him, and which they all agreed was an excellent one. Each promised to help him in every way that he should point out, and all kept their word.

That very night Ernest presented himself to the governor of the city as an executioner from another town, who was willing to take the place of Vincent, the missing officer, who had suddenly disappeared. The governor asked, of course, for his certificates of character and ability, but Ernest was ready for him; for his good friends of the tavern had provided him with papers, which, if not quite as genuine, were just as good looking as any executioner could have shown.

The governor read all the papers carefully, examined the signatures, asked Ernest a good many questions, and finished by engaging him, offering to pay him half the price for which they agreed in advance; but Ernest, who was too honest to take money for work which he never meant to do, said he preferred to wait, and have it altogether.

The next morning at sunrise was the time appointed, and a great crowd had collected to witness the execution; but Ernest saw with pleasure that his new friends had contrived to get places next the scaffold, and all looked determined and ready.

Presently the criminal, Hugo, as he was called, was brought from the interior of the prison, and Ernest felt a double longing to save him when he saw how much he resembled Veria.

Making a pretence of arranging his dress that it might not interfere with the blow, he whispered rapidly that he was no executioner, but was there to save him; and as he stood close behind him he slyly cut the cords which bound Hugo’s arms, and, slipping a strong knife into his hand, bid him do just as he did.

Hugo, although startled for a moment, soon recovered his self-possession, and, in a whisper, said he was ready.

Then Ernest, springing from the scaffold into the midst of the group of friends who were waiting for him, brandished his axe about his head, crying,--

“Rescue! rescue! Good men, rescue!”

Hugo, flourishing his knife, and crying out, “Help! friends, help!” followed immediately; and the little group, each of whom drew a knife, a dagger, a pistol, or some other weapon, closed about them, all crying, “Rescue! rescue!” which induced many others to join them.

More than this, the people, who all wished well to Hugo, made way for him and his friends to pass, but closed up when the soldiers tried to follow them, which caused much delay and vexation to the pursuers. Reaching the city gates, Hugo, Ernest, and one or two others, rushed out, and their friends, snatching the keys from the astonished guard, locked the gates, and threw the keys over the wall; then, hiding their weapons and mingling in the crowd, they escaped unrecognized.

The little group outside meantime had gained the wood, where horses were waiting for them; and Hugo, with one hurried kiss and good-by to Veria (who also was there waiting for him), mounted with one or two friends and rode off at full speed, and that same night left the country forever.

Ernest and Veria, at the same time mounting the two remaining horses, set out in another direction, and when the angry soldiers from the city had at last forced the gate and reached the forest, they found it silent and deserted; nor did they ever again see one of the fugitives.

Ernest and Veria, saying but little to each other, and both exceedingly sorrowful, rode all that day, and the next, and the next, until, the very evening when the tenth full moon was rising majestically from the sea, they turned loose their exhausted horses at the foot of the cliff which Sulemair had named the Frozen Fall.

Silently the two climbed the cliff, until they had nearly reached its crest, and then, Ernest motioning his companion to seat herself on a flat, gray rock which lay there, threw himself at her feet, and, looking up in her face, said,--

“Veria, I will not have it so. Why are you to sacrifice yourself that Sulemair should be happy? She has never known any other life than that beneath the sea, and she will soon forget me and her wild dream of becoming a mortal. I will stay with you, Veria, and we shall all be happy in our own way.”

Veria smiled sadly in the moonlight.

“No, Ernest,” said she, “I have bought my father’s life, and I will pay the price. Sulemair trusted you, and brought you back to earth that you might win for her the means of living always with you. Shall we be so base as to deceive and defraud her?”

Ernest, covering his face, groaned aloud, but did not speak; nor did either utter another word until the moon, sailing slowly through the calm, blue ocean of heaven, stood in the zenith smiling down at the twin moon, which smiled up to her from the ocean of waters beneath.

Then Veria, rising, pointed upward, and said softly,--

“Ernest, do you see?”

The young man slowly raised his pale face and looked. Veria, standing on the very verge of the cliff, the soft night wind floating back her snow-white dress and golden hair, her hands clasped and raised, as were her soft eyes, to heaven,--stood ready for the leap.