The Countess Itha ZA 6

mighty lord — master of the rich straths and
valleys of the Thur River, and of many a
burgh and district in the mountains beyond ;
and yet, despite all this, he, so noble and
beautiful, loved her, even her, the little Swab-
ian maid who had never deemed herself likely
to come to such honour and happiness. Nor
were the kindly father and mother ill-pleased
that so goodly a man and so mighty a lord
should have their dear child.

So in a little while the Count put on Itha’s
hand the ring of betrothal, and Itha, smiling
and blushing, raised it to her lips and kissed
it. “Blissful ring!” said the Count jest-
ingly ; “and yet, dearest heart, you do well
to cherish it, for it is an enchanted ring, an
old ring of which there are many strange
stories.” Even while he was speaking Itha’s
heart misgave her, and she was aware of a
feeling of doubt and foreboding; but she
looked at the ring and saw how massive was
the gold and how curiously wrought and set
with rare gems, and its brilliancy and beauty
beguiled her of her foreboding, and she asked
no questions of the stories told of it or of the
nature of its enchantment.

Quickly on the betrothal followed the