At last, however, the two noblemen and Henry of Stramen were admitted.
Bertha was sitting upright in bed, supported by Father Omehr, who beckoned to Henry to assist him.

There were traces of recent tears upon her furrowed cheeks, and her form seemed to dilate as she gazed at the nobles before her.
"Listen to me, Baron of Stramen!" she began, looking full at the noble, in whom surprise was gaining a temporary mastery over grief; "listen, for it is God's mercy that permits me to speak and you to hear! Twenty years ago I was young and beautiful.

I was loved by your brother and by him who stands at your side." Albert de Hers turned pale as death, and drawing the ring from his finger, advanced a step, saying hoarsely, "Are you the Bertha to whom I gave this ring ?" She took the trinket in her hand, and after examining it over and over, replied: "I _am_ that Bertha.

But how did you get this ?" "From the Duke Rodolph, to whom you gave it." The woman knit her brows, as if struggling to recall some confused impression, and at length said: "Yes, I did give it to him; I remember now.

Where is he ?" "In heaven, I trust," replied the Lord of Hers.
At the word heaven, the tears started in the eyes of the poor creature, and she hung her head.