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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..55d02aa --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69624 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69624) diff --git a/old/69624-0.txt b/old/69624-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1911bc1..0000000 --- a/old/69624-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5366 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Feudal tyrants, volume 3 (of 4), by -Christiane Benedicte Eugenie Hebenstreit Naubert - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Feudal tyrants, volume 3 (of 4) - The counts of Carlsheim and Sargans - -Author: Christiane Benedicte Eugenie Hebenstreit Naubert - -Translator: Matthew Gregory Lewis - -Release Date: December 23, 2022 [eBook #69624] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Barry Abrahamsen and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FEUDAL TYRANTS, VOLUME 3 (OF -4) *** - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - - - Feudal Tyrants; or The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans. Vol. III - - ◆ ◆ ◆ - - - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - FEUDAL TYRANTS; - - - OR, - - - _The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans_. - - - A ROMANCE. - - _TAKEN FROM THE GERMAN._ - - IN FOUR VOLUMES. - - - ◆ ◆ ◆ - - BY M. G. LEWIS, - - AUTHOR OF - - _The Bravo of Venice, Adelgitha, Rugantino, &c._ - - ◆ ◆ ◆ - - VOL. III. - - - ═══════════════════ - _SECOND EDITION_. - ═══════════════════ - - The portals sound, and pacing forth - With stately steps and slow, - High potentates, and dames of regal birth, - And mitred fathers in long order go. - - — GRAY. - - ══════════════════════════════════ - - London: - - Printed by D. N. SHURY, Berwick-Street, Soho, - - FOR J. F. HUGHES, WIGMORE STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. - ── - 1807 - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - FEUDAL TYRANTS, - - &c. &c. &c. - - ═════════════════════ - - - PART THE FIFTH. - - - ═════════════════════ - - COUNT DONAT’s DAUGHTERS. - - - - - PART II. - - ◆ ◆ ◆ - - - MEMOIRS - - Found in the Cell of a Nun, after her Decease, in the Convent of Zurich. - -Since Amabel Bloomberg traced the letters which will be found with this, -how many years have elapsed! how many changes have taken place! How many -persons are now insensible dust, who are described as agitated with such -anxious fears and ardent hopes, by the pens of Amabel and the Damsels of -Sargans! Accident has also made me mistress of the letters of those -unfortunate sisters. Accident, did I say? Surely, it was something more -than mere chance, which brought them into the hands of her, who is most -able to supply that chasm, which otherwise would have been left in these -adventures. - -To undertake this task I have both leisure and information sufficient. -My fate was too closely united with that of the sisters, to permit the -slightest particular concerning them to be concealed from me; and -jointly with theirs will my name be handed down to posterity. - -Yet is it not an idle vanity, a love of worldly fame, which makes me -desire this species of immortality?—Well then, I will repress the wish. -Long practised in self-denial, I will make even this last sacrifice to -my celestial spouse, and will write, as if I treated of strangers and of -interests quite foreign to myself. No one shall know my name except -Heaven, to whom alone is thoroughly known, how much I have suffered! - -When I entered the world, the course of innocence and beauty lay among a -thousand snares and pit-falls, which were the more dangerous from being -most artfully concealed. This is a truth which I learnt to my cost, -before I sought, and found, tranquillity in a convent. - -Amabel was blind to those snares; though they were spread carelessly -enough for her to have seen them, had not her own guileless nature -thrown a veil over her eyes, and had not female obstinacy made her -reject the prudent warnings of her best friends. - -The visit to Engelberg, which she had agreed upon in concert with her -brother’s wife, was made the next day; and the latter, as young, -imprudent, and unsuspicious as Amabel, undertook to excuse her -sister-in-law’s absence to the jealous Arnold, and the sick old man, who -suffered no quarter of an hour to pass without enquiring for his -daughter. However, Juttila engaged to invent some means for satisfying -him till Amabel’s return, which was delayed much longer than either of -them intended. - -How indeed could she return so speedily, since adventures encountered -her on the road, on which she little reckoned, and whose nature was of -sufficient consequence to have a fearful influence over herself, and -over all those who were most dear to her? Alas! the cottage which she -left with such a thoughtless heart, she was destined to revisit no more -with such content: the fate of the two sisters, which she was so eager -to learn, was now enveloped by such impenetrable darkness, that she in -vain.... But I am running away from the proper order of events, which in -truth it is natural for one of my profession and time of life to do. Be -it known to you, my youthful readers that it is not easy for an old -doating Nun to transcribe even a verse out of her Psalter, without -tacking to it at least a dozen of her own childish observations. - -At Engelberg Amabel found the Nun to whom Wolfenrad had directed her to -apply, and who was his confidante and the secret instrument for -effecting the carrying away of Amalberga. She assured Amabel, that her -friend had by no means been forced away; but that on account of the -assiduities of the Lord of Landenberg, and the popular disturbances -which increased with every day, Amalberga had voluntarily chosen to -withdraw herself from Engelberg. - -—“Your partiality for the governor,” said the artful hypocrite, “and -your incessant pleading in behalf of a man whom she could not love, made -the Lady unwilling to let you know her design. I was her sole confidante -on this occasion, and I think I have done well in enabling the dear soul -to escape from the temptations of the wicked world! She has taken refuge -in the Convent of Zurich, under the protection of an old Lady called -Urania, who is either her friend or some near relation, for I -understand, never was there joy known equal to that of their meeting.”— - -In this account Amabel could not discover the least vestige of deception -or improbability: still she blamed the Nun greatly for concealing the -real cause of Amalberga’s disappearance, by which means the spirit of -discontent was encouraged among the people against Landenberg, who bore -the odium of having violated the sanctuary, and forcibly carried away an -inmate of those holy walls. - -The Nun made but an indifferent defence against this charge, and Amabel -left her by no means satisfied with her conduct. However, she soon -forgot what little had displeased her in the Nun’s conversation, and -gave herself up entirely to the joy of being assured, that one of her -friends at least was safe in the arms of friendship and of maternal -love. - -—“Oh! that I could but have the same assurance respecting my beloved -Emmeline!” thus said Amabel to herself, as she hastened back to her -brother’s cottage; “Oh! that as I pass homewards, chance would but throw -Wolfenrad in my way, that I might learn from him what he knows about the -dear-one! He might just tell me in half a dozen words, and then hurry -away, in order that I might not blush too deep a crimson, when the -severe Censurer of my actions looks me in the face, and says with his -magisterial air,—‘Now, Amabel! whence do you come, and with whom have -you spoken?’—How ridiculous, that Arnold should take it into his head, -that an old man like Wolfenrad has designs upon a young creature like -me, not yet twenty! Yet ridiculous as it is, his anxiety proceeds from -the warmth of his affection for me, and I ought to forgive my good -Arnold for the faults of his head, when I recollect the kindness of his -heart.”— - -Such were the thoughts which occupied Amabel, as she hastily retraced -the long way between her home and the Convent; and as she past along, -she threw many an anxious look on every side in hopes of seeing the man, -who alone could confirm to her the fortunate escape of her friend. -Wolfenrad had frequently business that carried him to Engelberg, and it -was by no means improbable, that she should encounter him on her way. - -In fact, the tempter had long been at no great distance from the fair -pilgrim, though without her seeing him; since he stole along concealed -by a thick hawthorn plantation, which bordered more than half the road -between the village and the Convent of Engelberg. - -It is easy for the wicked to guess what steps will be taken by -unsuspecting innocence, whose proceedings are the natural result of -existing circumstances and feelings. Wolfenrad knew how warmly Amabel’s -heart was interested about her friends; he had given her hopes of -obtaining intelligence respecting them; he had pointed out the place, -where a part of those hopes might be realized; and he was therefore -certain of finding her on the road to that place, before many days were -elapsed. He had accidentally missed seeing her on her way to Engelberg; -but when on her return she was descending the Convent-hill, he espied -her from behind the watch-tower which stands at the farthest extremity -of the mount, and then hastened to shelter himself behind the hawthorn -hedge, in order that he might unseen watch her motions, and discover -what temper she was in, before he accosted her. - -And thus did he for some time steal along, examining every change of her -expressive countenance, and drawing but too just conclusions of the -subject, which employed her thoughts. Her look, now gay, now sorrowful, -and the impatient glances which she frequently threw around her, would -have been sufficient to betray her, even though a few broken sentences, -which escaped from her in the anxiety of her mind, had not left him -without a doubt of his presence being perfectly welcome. - -Wolfenrad’s plans for the innocent girl’s ruin had been so long -arranged, that they were ready to be carried into effect at a moment’s -warning; nor could he have wished for a more favourable opportunity than -the present. The fiercest passion for Amabel reigned in his bosom, and -deceived _him_ who was so well skilled in deceiving others. He fancied, -that in her impatient looks, in the tone which she used in pronouncing -his name occasionally, there was something more than mere friendship for -Emmeline, and that love was the motive that made her so anxious to meet -him! Immortal powers! Love! love from a girl, pure as innocence itself, -for such an earthly dæmon, a dæmon both in person and in mind! - -—“Yet however she may be disposed,” ’twas thus he argued with himself, -“too abrupt an appearance, too hasty a discovery of my views, might do -me a prejudice, and put her too much upon her guard. When her impatience -is worked up to the highest pitch, I shall be the more secure of her.”— - -And therefore he still remained invisible, and hastened onwards, keeping -still a little way before her; so that when the fair pilgrim reached the -end of the plantation, and emerged into the open plain, she descried him -crossing the path at some distance, as if totally unaware of her -approach. - -Amabel gave a cry of joy, called him by his name, and flew to join him. - -—“Is it you, my fair dame?” answered Wolfenrad. “What would you with -me?”—and he stopped, as waiting for her to come up to him. - -—“Oh! tell me! tell me! give me some tidings of the damsel of Sargans!”— - -—“You have been to Engelberg, and surely must have heard more there, -than I am able to tell you.”— - -“Oh! no, no, no! Emmeline! speak of Emmeline!”— - -—“Why, the Lady Emmeline.... Concealment being absolutely necessary.... -But we are close to your jealous brother’s house, and he may take -offence at our conference—Farewell! I must find an opportunity of -communicating what I know unobserved, when I return from Uri.”— - -“From Uri? Heavens! and when do you go thither, and how long shall you -remain away?”— - -—“I set out to-morrow; as to my stay, I fear the disturbances there will -make my return very distant.”— - -Amabel’s impatience to know something decisive respecting her friend now -grew beyond all bounds. She entreated him at least to put it out of -doubt that Emmeline had been saved from the flames, and hesitated not to -follow him into a bye-path, which conducted to the Castle. As they -passed along, the deceiver began a long and wonderful narrative of -Emmeline’s adventures, which occupied his auditor’s whole attention; but -as it contained not one syllable of truth, it would be superfluous to -relate it here. - -—“But one question more!” said Amabel at length, and stopped. “See! -night is approaching; we are already at the foot of the Castle-hill, and -I have still a weary way to traverse, ere I can regain my brother’s -cottage, where, I fear, I must be already missed. You assure me that -Emmeline is safe, and is concealed in the neighbourhood: Oh! tell me -then _where_ she is concealed, for my bosom pants to embrace her!”— - -—“That were easily done. You see the Castle is close at hand: thither -have I brought her, and I mean to convey her with me to Uri to-morrow, -since the disturbances which prevail in these parts render them an -unsafe abode.”— - -—“To Uri? To-morrow? Cruel, cruel Wolfenrad! Would you then have removed -her, without suffering me to see her for one moment?”— - -—“How could I have contrived an interview without betraying the secret? -Had not accident thrown you in my way, I should not have had an -opportunity of even telling you, that she is in your neighbourhood. -However, as soon as she was out of the reach of discovery, you would -have received a letter explaining every thing. I left her occupied in -writing it, and when finished it was to be delivered to your husband’s -care, who is now with her at the Castle, and who has been the chief -means of bringing her hither in safety.”— - -—“What say you? My husband? Is Edmund then with Emmeline? Oh! lead me to -him, dear Wolfenrad, I _must_ accompany you to the Castle; permit me to -pass this last evening with the dear lady; or at least suffer me to -embrace her once more, and assure her of my unchanged affection, and -then my husband can conduct me back to my brother.”— - -Wolfenrad heard this proposal with a malicious smile, and answered that -for _his_ part he had no objection; but he suggested his fears, lest her -taking such a step should displease the suspicious Arnold, who surpassed -her husband in jealousy a thousand fold. - -—“Oh! heed not that!” exclaimed Amabel; “while I am with _you_, I can -set all suspicions at defiance!”— - -She said this thoughtlessly, for she alluded to his age and ugliness. -The miscreant however interpreted it to his own taste, and saw in it the -confirmation of his insolent hopes. He was on the point of rewarding the -avowal by a tender pressure of her hand, which perhaps might have opened -her eyes, ere it was too late: but she prevented him by making a -thousand fond enquiries respecting her beloved Edmund, which put him -again upon his guard, and which were not ended till they arrived at the -Castle. The gates were closed: Wolfenrad sounded his horn; the -draw-bridge descended. He entered the Castle; Amabel followed him, and -the moment that she had passed the threshold, heard with terror the -noise of a port-cullis falling behind her. - -How strange is it, that we should frequently remain thoroughly blind -till we reach a certain point, and then be rouzed at once from our -delusions by some unimportant circumstance! Amabel has frequently told -me since, that the sound of that port-cullis (though nothing unusual in -the Castle) gave her the first indistinct idea of her imprudence and the -danger of her situation. - -Her voice faltered, as she pronounced the names of Edmund and Emmeline, -while she hastily withdrew her hand, which Wolfenrad had now seized with -an air of impetuous passion. She looked him anxiously in the face, and -her eyes read with horror in his an expression, which explained to her -the whole fearful secret. - -Yet she was still unwilling to believe that man so great a villain, whom -she had long believed so much her friend. It was not till she was -convinced, that neither Edmund nor Emmeline were in the Castle; that she -found herself totally alone with the wretch, whom she had despised as -being too insignificant to be dangerous; and that an old woman, whom (in -order to calm the first violence of her feelings) he had produced to her -as his wife, was nothing more than a domestic; it was not till then, -that she saw the whole business clearly, and the sight was one of such -danger, that perhaps had she been a woman of a common mind, it would -have thrown her into such a state of bodily insensibility, or of mental -dejection, as might effectually have prevented all endeavours to effect -an escape. But Amabel was a daughter of Helvetia! that is, she was a -woman, whose powers both of body and mind existed in their fullest -vigour; neither the first was weakened by luxurious indulgence, nor the -second liable to be subdued by imaginary terrors. In spite of all that -credulity and imprudence which had betrayed her into her present danger, -her imagination was still both clear and acute enough to suggest a means -for effecting her rescue, or at least for gaining time. - -She appeared reserved and shy, and sat down in silence to the voluptuous -entertainment, which was now served up by Wolfenrad’s confidante; the -only person, whom he suffered to penetrate into that part of the Castle. -Yet did Amabel contrive to give her silence the appearance of being -preserved much against her will; she refused not at Wolfenrad’s request -to lay aside the large hat, which overshadowed her face, and which (as -he complained) concealed from him numberless beauties; nor did she draw -away very hastily or with a look of extreme displeasure her soft white -hand, when he prest it passionately between his own. - -—“May I flatter myself,” said the deceived deceiver, “that Amabel does -not absolutely hate me?”— - -—“My religion forbids my hating any one.”— - -—“And you are not very much offended at my having employed a little -artifice to procure myself the happiness of this evening?”— - -“—Artifice?—Nay; the effect of accident, and ... and, I am afraid, my -own inclination was so much on your side, that....”— - -—“My charming Amabel! then I may hope, that Wolfenrad is not entirely -indifferent to you!”— - -—“Indifferent? Oh! that you are not _indeed_!—And as to hoping ... why, -nobody can prevent your doing that, you know.”— - -And with this kind of doubtful and flattering discourse did she long -entertain the betrayer, and forgot not to fill the silver bowls from -time to time; though the effects of his frequent draughts prevented him -from observing, that while she poured wine into his goblet, nothing but -water entered into her own. - -At the expence of a few disgusting kisses, which were forced from her -occasionally, she at length had the pleasure to see Wolfenrad fall -senseless from his chair. It was midnight; the old woman had long since -betaken herself to rest, and Amabel found herself at liberty to wander -through the vacant chambers in search of some means of escape. - -Alas! the locks and bars were immoveable, and no keys were to be -found.—She at length discovered an unfastened door opening into a -balcony; it overhung the middle court; the height was fearful; yet would -she have gladly ran the hazard of springing below, if she had not -dreaded the meeting there with a greater danger, than that from which -she was flying. The Castle-Garrison occupied this quarter. She heard -from above the conversation, which passed between the sentinels; and its -nature was such as to leave her no hope of finding from them protection -or even pity. It also informed her, that Wolfenrad’s bounty, and his -winking at their committing the most heinous offences, had united them -too closely to his interests, to admit even a chance of their acting in -opposition to his will. - -She wept in agony! She wrung her hands! At length despair took -possession of her whole soul. She eyed for a while the torch, which -flamed in her hand, and in a moment of desperate resolution she -determined to set the Castle on fire; in hopes of either being able to -effect her escape during the conflagration, or at least of saving -herself by death from existing for one instant with dishonour. - -Thus resolved, she was on the point of quitting the balcony when a -well-known name struck her ear. She stopt, and listened. Two sentinels -stood beneath the balcony, and she heard one tell the other, that it -would be necessary to wake Wolfenrad; for that he (the sentinel) was -just returned from the outer wall, and had seen a company of soldiers -crossing over the plain; that he had hailed one of them, and found them -to be part of those who had accompanied Bloomberg to Sargans, and that -their leader with the rest of his troops would follow them before -mid-day. - -—“Bloomberg their leader?” said his companion. “And since when has the -gentle peace-loving Bloomberg turned soldier, and what has Wolfenrad to -fear from a fellow, who but yesterday followed the plough?”— - -“Faith,” rejoined the first, “this is a time, when every countryman -exchanges his sickle and ploughshare for a sword and spear; and I know -enough of Edmund Bloomberg to be convinced, that the carrying off his -pretty wife will make him rage like a mad bull.”— - -—“Carrying off, d’ye call it?” said the other; “I think, she seemed to -follow Wolfenrad of her own accord; and if Bloomberg draws his sword -upon her account, the more fool Bloomberg!”— - -A burst of insulting laughter terminated this conversation, every -syllable of which pierced Amabel to the heart; and the soldiers -separated, having agreed that it was unnecessary to disturb Wolfenrad -that night, and that the news of Bloomberg’s return might safely be -delayed till the next morning. - -Amabel burst into tears; but she soon recollected, that she had better -occupation than weeping. A thousand ideas floated before her mind, -inspired by the distant hope which she derived from the assurance, that -in a few hours her husband would pass within sight of her prison. The -great object therefore was to gain time to wait for his arrival with -safety, and find means to inform him of her confinement in the Castle. - -Accident furnished her with both. She returned trembling into the -apartment, where the vile Wolfenrad still lay sleeping, the most odious -picture of intoxication that the eye ever witnessed. Despair made her -snatch a knife from the table, and she rushed to plunge it into his -heart; but here the softness of woman’s nature got the better of her -resolution and her vengeance. She threw down the knife, and hastened -into the balcony, that in the free air and under the sky thick sown with -stars, she might implore the Creator of that sky to look down upon and -assist her in this hour of fear and danger. She rose from prayer much -comforted: she turned towards the East, and looked eagerly for the -arrival of the dawn, whose approach was already announced. She soon -perceived, that the balcony in which she stood, though much too high -from the ground to admit of her throwing herself from it without being -dashed to pieces, at least commanded an extensive view over the -surrounding country, and was admirably calculated for summoning any -passing travellers to her assistance. - -Oh! now, would but the sleeping Libertine doze away the morning, all -might be well! Often did she steal softly into the chamber to see, -whether he gave any signs of waking; again the knife attracted her gaze. -She seized it, and concealed it in her bosom, as her last resource -should all others fail. - -It was now broad-day. Wolfenrad stretched himself, yawned, and opened -his red eye-lids. Amabel fled to a distant corner, but his voice soon -compelled her to return. - -—“My charming angel,” said he, “come near me. You filled my goblet last -night too generously, and this morning I feel myself still under the -influence of the too potent liquor. Beshrew me, but I am marvellously -indisposed.”— - -—“Let not that trouble you, my dear friend,” answered Amabel, while she -advanced a few paces, trembling with apprehension; “while I resided in -the Castle of Sargans, Count Donat frequently found himself unwell from -a similar indulgence in convivial pleasures; but he soon got the better -of his indisposition by using a warm bath, which never failed to restore -him to perfect health within an hour. In the next chamber there is a -large brazen cistern; the water shall be heated for you without delay, -and as soon as your bath is ready, I will call some of your attendants -to convey you thither.”— - -Without waiting for his answer, she hastened to her new occupation; she -soon returned with one pitcher of water, then went back again for -another, and thus contrived to get rid of near an hour, never failing as -she passed the balcony to cast from it a glance of enquiry, whether -there were yet no signs of her deliverer. - -It was in vain, that Wolfenrad desired her to call some of the servants -to spare her this unnecessary labour. Amabel remonstrated against the -impropriety of suffering herself to be seen by strangers in his -apartment, and at the same time protested, that she felt the greatest -pleasure in taking this trouble, since it was for _him_ that she took -it. Wolfenrad knew not how to find terms sufficiently strong to express -his gratitude for her attention, and protested, that he had not -flattered himself with the idea of possessing so warm an interest in her -heart. - -He was still expatiating on the satisfaction which this agreeable -discovery gave him, when the sound of trampling at a distance struck her -hearing. She looked towards the window, and descried a cloud of dust. -Down fell the pitcher from her hand. - -—“Your bath is ready!” she said in a voice scarcely audible from -agitation; and while Wolfenrad staggered into the adjoining chamber, she -hastened into the balcony. The horsemen came nearer; she recognized many -countenances well known to her; she recognized among them that of Edmund -Bloomberg. - -His name pronounced in her loudest tone, the cry of “Help for the -Virgin’s sake!” and her handkerchief waved in the air towards the -horsemen, soon attracted their attention. With equal surprise and terror -Bloomberg recognized his wife at a balcony of the Castle, heard her -implore assistance, and flew with his brave companions to afford it. -What followed, I shall relate briefly: the narrative of this adventure -may appear already too circumstantial, since its connexion with the -Sisters of Sargans is not at present evident; but it had too material an -influence upon the fate of all Helvetia to admit of my passing it over -with a slight mention. - -Before the Castle-Garrison had time to communicate to their Superior -that intelligence, which they ought to have conveyed to him the -preceding night, and while all hands were busily employed in guarding -against an attack on the main-quarter, Bloomberg and his friends had -already forced their way into the Castle at that neglected side, whence -Amabel had called to them for assistance. - -The bath, in which the still half-intoxicated Wolfenrad hoped to get rid -of the effects of his night’s excess, was crimsoned with his blood. -Amabel again found herself safe in the hands of her husband, in whose -bosom delight contended with indignation. The opposition of the garrison -to the complete conquest of the Castle was but trifling; and this -fortress would certainly have remained in the hands of the Helvetians (a -circumstance to them of the greatest advantage) had their numbers been -strong enough to resist the troops, who were shortly after sent against -them by the Abbot of St. Gall and other allies of the governor. -Bloomberg’s friends were inadequate to maintaining the possession of -their conquest, and in a few days afterwards he was compelled to -evacuate the Castle. - -Hitherto, the resentment of the multitude had been restrained within -some bounds: but Amabel’s adventure and the death of Wolfenrad were the -signal for open rebellion. The whole country was floated with blood: -would that I could say, that the blood which flowed was entirely that of -the foes of freedom! But alas! the number of the oppressors was too -mighty. The Helvetians were over-powered; and after displaying the -sentiments and performing the actions of heroes, Edmund Bloomberg, -Arnold Melthal, and his venerable father Henric (to whom patriotism and -his daughter’s injuries had restored some of his youthful strength) were -constrained to fly from those beloved unhappy vallies, which once had -been the favourite abodes of freedom and tranquillity. - -The name of “flight” was of itself offensive to Helvetian candour and -courage; the place to which they were compelled to address their flight, -made it no less painful than disgraceful. Altdorf, which was in the -jurisdiction of Gessler, whose tyranny had already been the cause of -such bitter sufferings to Henric and Arnold, was the only refuge which -remained to them. By remaining here quiet and concealed, till time -allowed them to find fresh means of resisting their enemies, they hoped -to escape Gessler’s notice; and accordingly they hastened to take -shelter at Altdorf, with the brave William Tell, Bloomberg’s -half-brother: here also they were sure of a powerful protector in the -person of Walter Forest, a man whose situation and native greatness of -mind struck awe into the bosom even of the insolent Gessler. - -Here then the fugitives remained concealed, and nourished hopes of -better times, which perhaps would have made even the present chearful, -had not domestic discord obtruded itself into their little circle. The -imprudence with which Amabel had thrown herself into the seducer’s -snare, in spite of all his warnings and remonstrances, had not passed -uncensured by her brother. His bitter reproaches sometimes excited -Edmund’s anger, and sometimes his jealousy; and the poor girl would have -been absolutely wretched, had not her father sustained her cause, and -had not her innocence found a most strenuous advocate in William Tell. -It is true, the language of veracity, in which she related her unadorned -story, was not to be mistaken; but still it required Tell’s cool -unprejudiced nature, and his noble guileless heart, to see every -circumstance in its real colours. - -He at length succeeded in restoring perfect harmony in Bloomberg’s -family, and Amabel blessed him for the second time as the author of all -her earthly happiness. Perhaps, her entire reconciliation with her -husband was a little forwarded by Arnold’s absence. This impetuous young -man had been the ring-leader of those, who at the Easter feast had -insulted the Abbot of St. Gall by singing the ballad of “Bishop Ulric;” -the Abbot had not forgotten it; and the unfortunate Arnold at length -fell into one of the many snares, which had been spread for him by his -priestly foe. Doubtless, he would have fallen a victim to the Abbot’s -vengeance, had not Werner Bernsdorf, by means which it is unnecessary to -relate circumstantially, contrived to release him from his dungeon, and -sheltered him in his own house. - -Though Amabel had received her husband’s full pardon, still the -reconciliation had taken place too freshly to allow her as yet to feel -quite at her ease: and now when the news arrived that her brother (whom -she loved most dearly in spite of his violence) was a prisoner, she -would have had sufficient reason to be unhappy, even had she not been -tormented by the most cruel anxiety respecting the fate of the Damsels -of Sargans. She ceased not to make enquiries concerning them; and at -length she received the confirmation of her bitterest apprehensions. -Amalberga was beyond a doubt totally in Landenberg’s power, who (in -spite of all Wolfenrad’s assertions to the contrary) kept her confined -in the Castle of Rassburg; nor was it less certain, that the Lady -Emmeline had perished in the flames of St. Roswitha’s Sanctuary. Report -spread far and wide many strange anecdotes respecting that -conflagration, which I shall relate in another place; in truth, there is -no one better able to give an account of that dreadful incident than -myself. - -The tears, which Amabel shed for herself and for her beloved friends, -were soon required by a still more painful cause: misfortunes now -awaited her, which were worthy to be mourned with tears of blood. - -The furious Gessler’s insolence increased with every succeeding day. His -most earnest care was to discover those who disapproved of him, that he -might revenge himself by their torments. At length his pride and folly -grew to such a height, that he fixed the plumed bonnet (which he usually -wore) upon a lance in the market-place of Altdorf, and ordered, that all -who passed should bow before it. The sneering populace obeyed, and -contented themselves with whispering to each other, that they had much -rather pay their respect to the empty hat, than the wicked head which it -was accustomed to decorate: but William Tell and some few others of the -principal inhabitants passed by the bonnet proudly and with unbending -necks. From that moment did Gessler mark them down as the future victims -of his revenge and rancour. - -Had the tyrant dared to lay violent hands on Tell, or had he contrived -means of stamping the mark of infamy on his reputation; had he sold the -wife of his bosom for a slave, or murdered his infants before his eyes; -still would all these atrocities have been excelled by that, which now -entered his infernal brain. A prize was to be contended for by archers. -The sport was interrupted by the arrival of Gessler. What was the horror -of all who heard him, when he commanded his guards to seize Tell’s son, -a lovely child but four years old, and bind him to the tree which had -been selected as a mark for the arrows. He then declared aloud with the -most impious execrations, that the heads of six of Tell’s relations -(whom he had confined upon some slight pretences) should fall before -night, unless the father would engage at a considerable distance to fix -a dart into an apple, which should be placed on the head of the child. - -How did the father burn with secret indignation, when Gessler dared to -lay before him this unnatural proposal! No earthly force could have -compelled him to arm his hand for the performance of an action so -uncertain and so fearful; yet in fact the bow and arrow could be -scarcely called an uncertain weapon in the hands of the most dexterous -archer in Helvetia: and after a few moments past in thought he -confidently accepted a proposal, whose atrocity (he was certain) was -thoroughly felt by all present; and whose consequence he trusted would -be the kindling the fire of liberty in every bosom till it should at -length break into open flames, and the emancipating his country for ever -from its present state of ignominious bondage. - -A glance, more expressing contempt than wrath, was darted by Tell’s dark -eyes upon the Governor, as he rocked himself backwards and forwards upon -his elevated chair of state, and looked down upon the circle of noble -Helvetians, whom the sports had attracted to Altdorf, as if they had -been creatures of an inferior kind. - -Gessler was too void of sensibility to understand the meaning of the -glance, which was darted on him by Tell’s piercing eye. He only smiled -contemptuously at having compelled the pride of this great mind to stoop -itself to his orders, when he saw him press the lovely laughing child, -his latest-born, to his heart with passion, and then bear him in his -arms to the tree, where he was destined to take his stand. The apple, -which was the nominal mark for that arrow, whose point Gessler hoped to -see crimsoned with human blood, was fixed on the child’s head by the -hands of the unhappy father. - -Gessler’s attendants prepared to bind the innocent creature to the tree; -but a spark of paternal spirit already burned in the soul of the son. - -—“I am an Helvetian!” cried he with boyish eagerness; “I am not afraid -of death, but of bonds: why, if my father _really_ wanted to kill me, do -you think I would run away?”— - -All withdrew from the place, where Death’s intended victim stood calm -and sweetly-smiling, like a second Isaac. The multitude, agonized with -terror, could scarcely be heard to breathe: Tell had already taken his -station. All were still, all dreading, lest the father’s hand, rendered -trembling and uncertain by anxiety for his darling, should for the first -time miss the mark; when the arrow whistled through the air, and fixed -itself in the apple just above the crown of the child’s head, who saw it -coming towards him, and smiled as he marked its flight. - -Now then all rushed, eagerly to learn the event of this awful scene. -Some exclaimed—“He is fallen! he is fallen!”—But the boy had only -stooped to pick up the apple which the force of the blow had struck from -his head; and he now presented it to his father, who had flown to -embrace his rescued darling with speed scarce inferior to that of his -arrow. - -—“I was certain, father,” cried the child, as he hung round the neck of -the breathless Tell, “I was certain, that you were not _really_ going to -kill your own William!”— - -—“Kill _thee_?” exclaimed the father; “sooner would I have driven the -arrow into my own heart! But eternal curses and sudden death to him, who -would have made a man the murderer of his own child! Look!” he -continued, while he clasped the boy to his breast with one hand, and -with the other drew from his bosom a dart, which he held towards -Gessler, “Look, monster! had the first arrow pierced my son’s breast, -_this_ should have been buried to the very beard in _thine_.—For this -time thou art safe; but yet rest thou assured, that at the last thou -shalt not escape unpunished! Though _I_ may spare thee, Heaven will -_not_.”— - -—“Vengeance! vengeance! death and curses to the tyrant! Eternal -destruction to the infernal Gessler and all the miscreants who assist -him!” thus exclaimed the multitude with one voice; while they closed -round Tell in order to conduct him home in safety, and protect him from -the Governor’s guards, to whom a signal had been given to fall upon him -without delay. - -But the friends of liberty were too weak in numbers to resist their -powerful oppressors. Before the gallant Tell had retraced half the way -to his cottage, his companions were dispersed, and himself delivered -into the hands of his enemy. Gessler commanded, that he should be bound, -thrown into a vessel which was ready for sailing, and conveyed to the -dungeons of Kussnach, as a violator of the respect due to imperial -dignity. - -No one was suffered to accompany Tell; but his little son clung to the -bonds which were cutting the flesh of his father, and cried, that he -would throw himself into the flood, if they tore him from him. Gessler’s -soldiers had no objection to taking two victims instead of one, and -yielded to the child’s request, whom Amabel followed into the vessel -without being questioned. The boy was her darling, and it was she who -had conducted him to the fatal archery, where it was his destiny to play -so principal a part. The cry that he was safe had rouzed her from the -swoon into which the sight of his danger had thrown her; and she now -found it impossible to part so soon from the cherub, whom she had -expected never more to clasp to her bosom but as a corse. She had also -no slight grounds for apprehending new dangers for the rescued victim, -should she leave him in the hands of his enemies with no other protector -than his captive father. Gessler’s servile ministers could not have well -pitched upon a more skilful or certain means of inflicting pain on Tell, -than by murdering his son before his face. - -Amabel was aware of this; and dreading lest this horrible plan of -vengeance should occur to the soldiers, she took the first opportunity -of enticing the child away from his father, and concealing him in a dark -corner of the vessel. Here she charged the little William to remain -quiet, and pointing to Tell, bade him observe how quiet his father was -lying on the floor, his fettered hands clasped together and raised -towards Heaven, whither his eyes directed devout and imploring glances, -which reached the Preserver of innocence above the clouds. - -—“What is my father doing?” enquired the child at length in a whisper. - -—“He is praying for himself and for us,” answered Amabel. - -—“Oh! then God will hear him, and help him; and then you know, we can -creep out, and take away those ugly cords from his poor bleeding -hands.”— - -Amabel replied in the manner, which she thought most likely to satisfy -the child; and a conversation was carried on in whispers between her and -her little companion which gradually became interesting enough to -prevent their observing that a dreadful storm was rising, that thick -clouds had changed the day into night, and that the light vessel was -forced far out of its intended course. The rolling of the thunder, the -frequent flashes of lightning, and the heavy torrents of rain at length -made both attentive and silent; till William proposed that he should -steal to his father under covert of the thick darkness, and spread his -little coat over him, for Tell lay entirely exposed to the tempest. -Amabel burst into tears as she listened to the kind-hearted boy, then -gave him her own cloak, and bade him hasten to alleviate the prisoner’s -sufferings. - -But Tell showed by no sign, that he was conscious of this affecting -testimony of his child’s care: he remained with his hands clasped, and -his eyes still fixed upon the heavens. Perhaps, the transactions of that -day had blunted all his feelings; perhaps, he was revolving plans of -escape, which never fail to occupy the thoughts of the captive hero, and -whose future execution frequently prevent his being sensible of the -weight of present calamities. - -The tempest continued to rage: with every moment the danger of the -slight vessel became more imminent. Tell, Amabel, and the child were now -left by themselves. The other persons were employed in various quarters, -endeavouring if possible to save the ship, which was already deprived of -sail and mast. The prisoners were now the happiest of the party: they at -least rejoiced in the hope of perishing together. The child too, who had -no clear idea of the danger, and fancied that everything went wrong only -because his father was in bonds, ceased not to exert all his little -powers in endeavouring to untye the cords; but even with Amabel’s -assistance he found the task too difficult for his strength. - -While they were still employed in this unavailing labour, they heard the -cry of distress increase with tenfold violence: presently some one on -the upper deck exclaimed—“Now then all is lost! What winds and waves -have failed in doing, will be done by the hidden rocks which abound upon -this coast, and with which not a soul of us is acquainted. Oh! what -would I now give to be as good a pilot as Tell, and to possess his -knowledge of these shores!”— - -Amabel started up, and listened with more attention. She heard the name -of Tell frequently mentioned; and after a few minutes past in -contention, some of the sailors approached the place, where she stood by -the side of her unfortunate friend. - -—“Tell,” said the Captain, “you know, that your life is forfeit to the -law; but if you will engage to conduct the vessel safe to land, as a -favour we will unbind you, and promise to do our utmost to obtain a -milder sentence for you from the Emperor’s mercy.”— - -—“I have saved many a vessel,” answered Tell, “in a more desperate -situation than the present; and that which has succeeded with me ten -times before, I trust, will not fail with me now.—As to what you say -about favours, bestow them on those who ask them; I expect mercy from no -one, save from Him under whose hand we all now tremble!”— - -Tell was unbound, and the rudder committed to his care. William and -Amabel still remained close by his side, while the rest of the ship’s -company dispersed to their several stations. - -Tell’s rudder seemed to command the tempest: he steered confidently -through the foaming waves, and already the companions of his danger -shouted with joy at the certainty of their escape. - -—“And what will be the reward of our preserver?” asked one of the most -compassionate among Gessler’s soldiers. - -—“What _should_ it be?” answered their leader angrily. “The most he can -lay claim to is a speedy death without being previously tortured; or -perhaps his sentence may be softened into that of eternal -imprisonment.”— - -Tell was silent, and cast a despairing look through the dark clouds of -the storm towards the Only-one, from whom he had hopes of assistance! - -—“Oh! that I had no one here to tremble for, except myself!” said Tell -to the afflicted Amabel, who knelt beside him after a silence of some -minutes—“how quickly should I be safe from the malice of my enemies!”— - -—“And what then would you do?”— - -—“The rocks are not lofty! One bold and lucky spring, and I were in -safety!”— - -—“Throw me into the waves, father!” cried the boy, “throw me into the -waves, for _I_ am a hindrance to you!”— - -At that moment a tremendous flash of lightning illuminated the whole -scene. Tell descried an immense tree at a slight distance growing out of -a rock which they were approaching, and extending its arms far over the -foaming flood— - -“Amabel!” cried Tell, “dare you seize a bough of that tree as we pass -under it, suffer the bark to be carried away from you, and cling fast to -the branch, till I have time to come to your assistance?”— - -—“I dare! I dare!” cried Amabel in the tone of desperation—“But the -child! Oh! God! the child!”— - -—“Be that my care!—Be prepared!—Now then!” he cried, and was obeyed. He -saw that she had fast hold of the bough, and in the same moment he -seized the boy with his left arm, with his right turned the rudder -to-wards the rock, then sprang boldly from the deck, and left the vessel -with its unthankful freight a prey to the raging flood. The tempest -seized it; the rudder was broken in the shock, and dreadful was the -shriek of the crew, as the fury of the winds and waves drove it far away -over the roaring billows. Tell sprang upon the rock unhurt; he hastily -climbed up the upper part of the coast, and having placed the boy on the -ground, he flew to give Amabel his assistance. But she, who was -deficient neither in strength of body or presence of mind, had already -found means to gain the rock in which the tree was rooted, had forced -her way through all impediments, and had nearly reached the loftiest of -the broken cliffs, before he could arrive. He assisted her to attain the -summit, when she instantly sank on her knees, and returned thanks to God -with all the joy of one just rescued from destruction. - -But I forget, that Tell and Amabel are in fact foreign to my story, and -I have already suffered myself to dwell on their adventures too long, to -the prejudice of my real heroines. I will therefore pass over in silence -the circumstances which followed their escape from the vessel, and those -which again threw them into Gessler’s power. Suffice it to say, that the -dart which the Avenger of human nature seemed to have reserved for that -express purpose, the dart which Tell had shown Gessler, in the first -burst of his indignation, that very dart pierced the tyrant’s bosom; and -thus was Helvetia freed from a monster, who had laid waste her tranquil -vallies with circumstances of much greater cruelty, than were ever -attributed to fabled dragons in the Legends of Romance. - -After performing this dangerous act of justice, Tell betook himself to -Stein, where he intended to take refuge with Werner Bernsdorf. Here he -found new cause to rejoice at having rid the world of Gessler. -Bernsdorf’s new-raised edifice, the admiration of the whole country, lay -an heap of ashes! Gessler had thought it too good for a private man, and -had threatened to pull it down. Werner laughed at his threats, for it -seemed to be no trifle to destroy the property of a man of his -consequence, while living in the midst of a neighbourhood, where every -arm and every heart were devoted to his service: but he did not reflect, -that villany can find a hundred secret means for effecting its purposes. -In the depth of the night a fire broke out, which, from its bursting all -at once from the four corners of the building, and at a time when all -were buried in sleep, gained ground too rapidly to admit of its being -got under. Werner and Gertrude saved nothing from the flames, except -their lives. Every one exclaimed against secret incendiaries, and no one -doubted by whose orders this shameful action had been committed: in -fact, there were proofs sufficient to make it morally certain, that the -author of this mischief could be no other than Gessler. - -The sight of his friend’s distress (for this fire had reduced Werner to -beggary) raised Tell’s indignation to the highest pitch. He left Amabel -and his son to the care of Gertrude, and hastened with Bernsdorf in -disguise back to Altdorf, to consult with Walter Forest and Henric -Melthal on the best and speediest means of rescuing Helvetia from her -disgraceful yoke. Arnold Melthal also, who had but lately escaped from -the dungeons of the Abbot of St. Gall, increased their band; and the -union of five men so remarkable for courage and for prudence produced -such fortunate and such glorious consequences, as will immortalize their -names to the latest posterity[1]. - -Footnote 1: - - Bernsdorf’s real name was Staufacher. - -Bloomberg hastened to Stein, to rejoice with his wife at her escape, and -to efface in her embraces the injurious impressions, to which his too -easy heart had given way during their separation. Spite and Envy had not -neglected the opportunity of calumniating one of Amabel’s noblest -actions. Her frank and guileless nature had prevented her from making it -a secret, that the admirable William Tell had been the first love of her -innocent heart; and her voluntary forsaking her family, in order that -she might share the fate of that gallant prisoner (a circumstance of -which all Altdorf had been an eye-witness) had found that -misinterpretation, which Calumny is always so eager to bestow on those -heroic actions, of which she feels herself incapable. - -Fortunately the heart of Edmund Bloomberg was not more prone to jealous -doubts, than open to conviction. Nothing more than the sight of his -excellent brother, and the relation of the true circumstances of the -case, was necessary to make him feel the folly of suspecting the -integrity of such a man. He requested his lovely wife to forgive his -unjust suspicions; and the temporary separation of their hearts seemed -to have renewed his former love with such violence, that he could not -resolve to tear himself away from her, in spite of his earnest desire to -participate with his friends in the glorious attempt to rescue Helvetia -from her chains. - -Yet was not Edmund entirely idle. His wife’s anxiety respecting the -Damsels of Sargans had formerly induced him to make enquiries respecting -their fate; but Wolfenrad (whose sole view was to remove the husband, in -order that the unprotected wife might fall a prey during his absence) -had taken care to direct his search, where he well knew that it must be -fruitless. Edmund at length discovered the trick, and incensed at having -been sent on such a wild-goose-chase, he hastened back accompanied by a -band of well-armed companions, determined to revenge the insult. His -vengeance was complete, and now at Amabel’s request he again resumed his -search after the Damsels of Sargans: nor was it long before he -ascertained, that report had said no more than the truth, when she -asserted that Amalberga was a captive in the dungeons of Rassburg, and -that Emmeline had really perished among the flames. To rescue the one -and to revenge the other now formed the only subject of the -conversations, which passed between Gertrude, Amabel, and her husband. - -The more they discussed the circumstances, the more dreadful did the -fate of the two sisters appear, and the more difficult of execution did -they find their plans respecting them. They were conscious, that without -some powerful supporter, their strength was insufficient for the -undertaking; and Amabel’s thoughts immediately suggested to her the -names of two young knights, to whom at a former period the Damsels of -Sargans had been by no means indifferent, and who (she doubted not) -would still feel so much interest about them, as to forward her wish to -avenge the death of the one and procure the deliverance of the other. - -On enquiry, it appeared, that but few hopes could be grounded upon the -aid of Count Herman of Werdenberg. Suspicions, injurious to Emmeline’s -character, had made him resolve to conquer his passion for her: but to -eradicate her from his heart had not been found a task so easy, as he -imagined; and at length he had quitted Germany, tormented by his -unsatisfied love, and by anger at himself for not having succeeded in -overcoming it. He was at this time in England, whence his relations had -solicited his return most earnestly, but in vain. - -But little as was to be expected from Count Herman, so much the more was -to be hoped from the noble Eginhart of Torrenburg, and it was resolved -that Edmund should hasten to him without delay: it was not long before -he returned accompanied by the youthful hero. - -There are reasons, which it is unnecessary to disclose, which make it -particularly painful to me to trace the name of Torrenburg, and to -recollect how closely his fate is interwoven with that of Amalberga of -Sargans: but it must be done, and I will not complain. Yes, there ought -to be now no sacrifice too difficult for my heart to make: there _shall_ -be none! - -Eginhart of Torrenburg, who had formerly been as closely bound to Helen -of Homburg through motives of policy, as he was now attached by -affection and his own choice to the lovely Amalberga, was at length free -from his engagements to the former, and at liberty to bestow his hand -according to the dictates of his heart. - -Helen (alas for that poor Helen!) had been carried off on her bridal-day -by that fierce terrific tyrant, Donat, Count of Carlsheim and Sargans: -force had compelled her to become his wife! Angels of innocence, where -were you then lingering, that you gave the unfortunate no warning-sign -of the danger, into which she was on the brink of falling? Yet scarcely -can I decide, which would have been the harder fate; to become the -victim of Count Donat, or with a heart glowing with love to be delivered -into the arms of a husband, whose soul was in secret devoted to another, -and whose hand was only given to the wretched Helen from motives of -honour and respect for his plighted word. - -Instead of the expected bride, the news of her being carried off reached -the Castle of Torrenburg, where the wedding was to have been celebrated. -Though love had no share in his concern on this occasion, compassion for -the unfortunate girl, and the insult thus offered to himself, made the -young Count immediately place himself at the head of his vassals, and -hasten to rescue the intended victim from Donat’s clutches. - -Helen, who had been compelled to assent to this unhallowed union at the -Castle of Upper Halbstein, was now ordered to follow her unamiable Lord -to another of his fortresses situated southwards among the Rhœtian Alps. -She received the command with joy, for at the Castle of Sargans she -hoped at least to receive the consolations of friendship. Her -step-daughters had been the play-fellows of Helen’s childhood during -several weeks; and since their separation occasional letters and -messages conveyed by third persons had frequently assured her, that she -still lived in the remembrances of her early friends. In their embraces -she hoped to find some alleviation of her sufferings: she flattered -herself also, that the station which she was now to fill in their house, -would give her frequent opportunities of making the situation of the -poor girls more happy than it had been hitherto; and this reflexion -prevented her from feeling herself quite miserable. - -Cruel fate decreed, that her journey, which was made in company with her -husband and under the protection of a numerous retinue, should be -interrupted by the arrival of the Count of Torrenburg and his forces. It -was now, that for the first time she saw the bridegroom, whom fortune -had destined never to be hers; for whose character she had ever been -taught to entertain the highest admiration; and whose sight (for oh! -there never yet was man more formed to captivate the soul of woman) was -sufficient to make her feel, how near her happiness had been, and how -completely it was now lost to her for ever. - -Torrenburg’s valour forced Count Donat to seek his safety in flight, and -the trembling Helen was brought before the conqueror. Helen (who -believed herself to be no less dear to her destined bridegroom, than He -was dear to Her) for a few moments forgot her duty; but melancholy -reflexion soon made her tear herself away from the embraces of the -beloved warrior, and she commanded him to leave her. - -—“My rescue comes too late!” she exclaimed, wringing her hands in agony; -“I am Count Donat’s wife, and must remain so, though it should break my -heart! Oh! Eginhart, restore me to my husband, and forget the -unfortunate, whom fate has separated from you for ever.”— - -Tears stood glittering in the warrior’s eyes. He advanced, as if he -would have detained her, but she peremptorily forbade his nearer -approach. She hastened to her palfrey, and giving the reins to the -animal, she soon reached the valley, whither Donat and his vassals had -directed their flight. - -Helen’s conduct on this occasion, which might well have been termed a -difficult effort, if virtue and duty did not make every effort easy, was -rewarded by her stern husband with coldness, with sarcasms, with -reproaches. She arrived at Sargans; and here was Helen destined to find -the disappointment of her last poor promised pleasure, the society of -her two friends. - -Count Donat held out to her as a mark of his complaisance and of his -consideration for her happiness, that he had ordered the only one of his -daughters who remained to him (for the other had unaccountably -disappeared) to quit the Castle. In vain did Helen implore him to recall -Emmeline of Sargans from the Sanctuary of St. Roswitha: he was deaf to -her entreaties, and she was left a prey to solitude and despair. - -Nor had the husband, who had gained her hand by such unworthy means, -reason to be entirely satisfied with his situation. The Counts of -Torrenburg, Mayenfield, and Homburg, mortally offended at the carrying -off of Helen, like a deluge over-ran with their forces the territories -of Count Donat. His fortresses were forced and plundered one after -another, and they now advanced to attack the Castle of Sargans. But -Helen, whose only remaining consolation was derived from the most -punctilious discharge of her duties, came forth to throw herself at the -feet of her relations; and she implored for peace so fervently and so -earnestly, and she asserted with so much solemnity her belief, that -being once become the Count of Carlsheim’s wife, it was her duty to live -and die with him, (a duty, which she was resolved to fulfill, whatever -might be the consequences,) that her intercession was found -irresistible. Dearly was Helen beloved by her parents; earnestly did -they desire her happiness, which they well knew she never could find in -the arms of Donat: but it was by themselves, that she had been taught -the merit of sacrificing all other considerations to that of fulfilling -her duties; how then could they advise her now to break through the -rules, which they had themselves laid down for her?—Peace was granted, -and granted solely to Helen’s intercession. The ravisher was left in -possession of his unwilling bride; and her relations quitted his -territories, having first exacted from him the most solemn and dreadful -oath to recompense her for the happy station, of which he had deprived -her, by unchanging love and never-ceasing anxiety for her welfare. - -Donat took the oath: how he kept it, is a secret to all save the -Almighty and Helen: but she has sworn in the presence of God to be -silent on this subject, and she will carry that dreadful secret with her -to the grave unpublished. - -She was very—oh! _very_ miserable! On those days only, when her stern -husband was from home, had she any gleams of sunshine. On one of these -days an unknown messenger arrived, and desired to speak with the Lady -Emmeline of Sargans. He was informed, that she was not at the Castle, -and he was conducted to Helen. He brought letters from the Lake of Thun, -which he at length confided to her, though unwillingly, and only (as he -said) induced by the frank expression of her countenance. - -—“But,” said he, “will you deliver them to the Lady Emmeline with your -own hands?”— - -Helen, who lived at Sargans almost in a state of captivity, knew too -well that she was not authorised to give such a promise, and only -answered by a melancholy shake of the head. Her look, the suspicious -countenances of the attendants, and the well-known character of her -husband, alarmed the messenger, and made him suspect that his life was -in danger: he stole unperceived to the gate, and hastened away. The -packet was thus left in Helen’s possession. She knew, that it would be -impossible to deliver it into the hands of her, for whom it was -intended; she long sought for opportunities of doing so in vain; and at -length ennui, and her anxiety to obtain some further information -respecting the Sisters, which might possibly furnish her with the means -of alleviating their cruel destiny, induced her to open the letters. - -They were from Amabel Melthal and the lost Amalberga. Heavens! what -unexpected discoveries did Helen make while perusing them; discoveries, -which had no slight connexion with her own situation! God be thanked, -that among other things they made it known to her, that nothing but duty -to his parents, and consideration for his plighted word, had induced -Eginhart of Torrenburg to offer her his hand, while every fond sentiment -of his heart had long been Amalberga’s. This discovery at first wounded -her to the very soul; but after a time she drew from it reasons for -being better satisfied with her fate, and she resolutely banished the -beloved youth from her memory, in which till then he had too frequently -occupied a place. - -Determined to abstract herself entirely from every thing which regarded -herself, Helen now determined to consider the happiness of her two -friends as her only object in life. She endeavoured to make herself -mistress of every circumstance belonging to them. Mention was made in -one of Amabel’s letters of an old maid-servant at Sargans, called -Bertha, who had been Emmeline’s confidante during the latter days of her -abode at her father’s mansion; and in hopes of gaining some further -information Helen desired, that Bertha might be brought before her. She -was answered, that the old woman had been sick for several weeks, and -was now drawing near her end. To the great astonishment of the domestics -Helen immediately hastened to Bertha’s chamber, saying, that she would -go and comfort her in her last moments. - -Helen had but little time allowed her to perform this charitable office: -yet that little she employed to the best advantage, and in return -Bertha’s gratitude rewarded her more amply, than she had hoped. Bertha, -who had fallen ill soon after Emmeline’s departure, had only had time to -forward the letter for Amabel; another packet, intended for the Countess -Urania Venosta, was still in her possession. She gave it to Helen, and -implored her to take care, that it reached its destination. That was not -in Helen’s power; she kept it for some time, in constant terror lest her -tyrant husband should discover it, and lest it should be the means of -drawing down on herself and Emmeline fresh anger and increased -sufferings. At length, she resolved at least to put the contents out of -Count Donat’s power to bury in oblivion: she broke the seal, and what -she read exalted her impatience to rescue the unfortunate writer to a -degree, that was almost too strong to admit of concealment. - -What Helen suffered at this period is not to be expressed; perhaps her -own misfortunes had made her still more compassionate towards those of -others, than it was her nature otherwise to be. Three objects were now -never out of her thoughts for a moment. The first was, since the Count -of Torrenburg was now lost to her for ever, to make known to him the -present residence of Amalberga; but how to convey to him that -intelligence, she in vain sought to discover. The second was, if -possible, to rescue Emmeline from the detested Convent of St. Roswitha; -but alas! she had but little hopes of delivering others, while she was -herself a captive in the Castle of Sargans. The last was, to obtain -possession of the key to that chamber, in which was the secret entrance -to the subterraneous passages leading to the dwellings of the Anchorets. - -The last seemed to afford her the most probable means of gratifying her -two former wishes; perhaps too, she was unconsciously desirous of -securing a means of escaping from the Castle, should she ever find such -a step necessary. It is at least certain, that in her eagerness to carry -her point, she took many steps, which prudence would not justify. -Frequently did she repair to that chamber; she found the door guarded by -seven locks. Frequently in the dead of the night, when all slept, or -seemed to sleep, did she try the house-keys, which were in her charge; -and when at length two of the locks shot back from their fastenings, she -sank on her knees, and thanked Heaven with a flood of tears. She doubted -not, that the rest of the locks would yield to her perseverance; but a -sudden noise at no great distance prevented her from pushing the attempt -farther that night, and she hastened back to her chamber with a heart -filled with delight and expectation. - -Joy, at being so near the accomplishment of her wishes, prevented her -from sleeping during the remainder of the night, and she employed the -vacant hours in revolving her future plans. - -—“If,” said she to herself, after giving the matter her most serious -consideration; “if I should be so fortunate as to obtain an entrance -into the mysterious chamber to-morrow night, I will hasten to the -subterraneous passage without losing a moment. A torch, and the clear -description of the way given in Amalberga’s letter will guide me to the -Hermitage to a certainty, and I need only use more than ordinary -diligence, in order to be back at the Castle before day-break; for -precious as liberty appears to me, I will not obtain it by improper -means. I am Donat’s wife, and privately to withdraw myself from his -protection were to commit an act of infidelity and treason against my -husband. I will content myself therefore with relating what I know to -the good hermits, and entreating them to take the best and speediest -means of rescuing Emmeline from her dangerous abode, and for placing the -fortunate Amalberga in the arms of Torrenburg!”— - -On second thoughts, she reflected, that merely to give this intelligence -to the hermits would not be to do enough; it would also be necessary to -give some explanation to the Countess Urania respecting the letters -which she had opened, and by advising Torrenburg to make Amalberga his -wife, to render it clear to him, that she had herself forgotten the tyes -which once existed between them. Perhaps too, a threatening letter to -the Abbot of Curwald (should all other means fail) might have some -weight in inducing him to surrender Emmeline. In order that nothing -might delay her on the ensuing night, she rose instantly from her bed, -and began to write. But before her letters were concluded, it was -morning, and her attendants, or rather her jailors, entered the -apartment to wake her. They exprest no little surprise at finding her -already out of bed. - -—“I presume, noble Lady,” said the eldest of them, “either some joyous -foreboding, or some prophetic dream has roused you from your couch so -early. Our Lord will return to-day; in truth, we knew this yesterday, -but we kept it to make our morning-greeting the more welcome, and also -through apprehension lest your joy at this intelligence should spoil -your night’s rest.”— - -Helen only answered the speaker by one of those expressive glances, with -which the open-hearted repay words, which belie the secret mind. She was -well aware, that her women who had been so often the witnesses of her -sufferings, could not but know the nature of those feelings, which -Donat’s return was likely to excite in her bosom. Nor did she alone -tremble in the presence of the fierce Count of Carlsheim; every creature -that existed in the Castle listened to his name with terror, and nothing -but irony had dictated this speech of the insolent Jutta. Yet dared not -Helen find the least fault with any one of her female attendants, who -were chiefly composed of her husband’s former favourites, and the -meanest of whom had more influence with him still, than was allowed to -his unhappy wife. - -The news of Donat’s return was soon confirmed: it was scarcely mid-day, -when she heard the drawbridge resounding beneath the hasty trampling of -his black steed. She hastened to receive him at the gate with that smile -of submissive duty, which she had accustomed herself always to wear in -his presence. He repulsed her offered hand with a furious look, and shut -himself up in his own chamber with such of his dependents, as were most -in his confidence. An hour elapsed; his chamber-door was thrown open, -and Donat rushed out again, to all appearance more incensed, if -possible, than before. - -—“Arm! arm!” cried he with a voice of thunder, which resounded through -the whole fortress, and which soon collected all his soldiers around -him, who, wearied with the journey from which they were just returned, -were better fitted for repose than for a second expedition; “to horse, -and away this instant; business of importance summons us, and which -admits of no delay. Talk not of weariness, or exhausted strength! the -deed, which now demands your faulchions, could be executed, if your arms -were half useless; for I lead you not against stout warriors, but -cowardly monks, on whom I swear to be revenged before sun-set!”— - -They were too well accustomed to obey Count Donat at the first motion of -his finger, to make any remonstrances. In a few minutes all were -mounted, and their horses galloped over the echoing draw-bridge into the -valley below, whence they disappeared from the eyes of those, who gazed -after them, with the rapidity of lightning. - -The Castle-inhabitants looked on each other in silent astonishment. The -similarity of their present feelings produced a kind of confidence -between the Countess and her women; and one of them confessed to her, -her being almost certain, that she knew the cause of all this uproar. -She would however only impart thus much of her knowledge: on his return -homewards the Count had received a letter from one who was in the habit -of sending him intelligence, and this letter most probably contained the -spark, which had kindled such flames in the bosom of Count Donat; for as -soon as he had read it to his confidents, he tore it in a thousand -pieces, and trampled it under his feet. Besides this, in the midst of a -torrent of execrations he had been heard to mention the Abbot of Curwald -and his daughter Emmeline. - -—“Emmeline and the Abbot?” exclaimed Helen delighted. “Is it possible, -that some benevolent Being should have opened his eyes to the miseries -of his daughter? Is it to rescue her, that he departed in such haste? -Ah! then why have I so long delayed to take the nearest and surest way -for effecting her deliverance? Had I but confest her danger to Count -Donat.... Surely the worst of men could not endure, that his child -should be overwhelmed in shame and ruin! The depravity of the Nuns of -St. Roswitha must have been concealed from Count Donat, or he never -would have made his daughter a member of their society!”— - -These reflections, which were only half pronounced by Helen, were -totally unintelligible to her attendants, who continued to discuss what -had past, and to conjecture what was to follow; this occupied them so -entirely, that they did not perceive, that their mistress had left them. -She had hastened to her husband’s chamber, where she hoped to obtain -some insight into the circumstance, which at once both rejoiced and -alarmed her. - -The fragments of the important letter still lay upon the floor; she -eagerly seized them, and having secured herself against interruption, -put them again together carefully. She learned from them the truth of -what she had just been told; the writer warned Count Donat to beware of -the Abbot’s artifices; discovered to him, that St. Roswitha’s Sanctuary -was little better than the harem of the Monks of Curwald; and that by -enclosing the Lady Emmeline within these sacrilegious walls, he had -delivered up his daughter to the passion of her licentious lover. - -No wonder, that information like this should have given a deadly wound -to Count Donat’s pride: nor (in spite of his own excesses) was he so -totally lost to shame as to endure patiently, that his daughter should -become the prey of a libertine. He was almost frantic with rage, and for -the first time in his life he drew his sword to punish the insulters of -virtue. - -Helen sank on her knees, and thanked God for this unexpected -accomplishment of her wishes. She sent a thousand prayers after her -husband for the good success of his expedition: she even went so far, as -to begin to make preparations for receiving the rescued Emmeline, whom -in fancy she already prest to her heart; and when this agreeable -occupation was finished, she turned her thoughts towards guessing at the -benevolent writer of the letter, which had induced the father to hasten -to preserve his child. - -Poor simple Helen! it entered not into her thoughts (and it was not till -long after, that she made the discovery) that villainy often performs a -seemingly virtuous action, in order to forward its own unholy designs. -She knew not, that the author of that letter was Wolfenrad. It seems, -that those oppressors of Rhœtian and Helvetian liberty, the lord -governors and their assistants, carried on a very close though secret -understanding with some of the most potent noblemen, whose object it was -equally to bring the inhabitants of these unfortunate countries still -more beneath the yoke, and to build upon their subjection the fabric of -their own power and grandeur. Among the secret allies of Gessler and -Landenberg, Count Donat and the Abbot of Curwald were the most -distinguished; and Wolfenrad on account of his well-known skill in -penmanship was frequently employed by both the governors to carry on -their correspondence both with Curwald and Sargans. - -Still the fact was, that neither of these parties meant honestly to each -other. Donat and the Abbot were determined only to go hand in hand with -the vice-regents so long, as it suited their own views; and _these_ on -the other side intended, as soon as they had derived as much benefit as -they could from the assistance of the Count and his ecclesiastical ally, -to excite a quarrel between them, and then join with the one in -plundering the other. - -We have already seen, how imprudently Amabel had laid her secrets open -to Wolfenrad. Her letters to Emmeline passed through his hands, and he -missed not this opportunity to increase his knowledge of the affairs of -the Count of Carlsheim; and though Emmeline’s letters to Amabel were not -_confided_ to him, by one artifice or another he had not failed to -obtain a sight of them. Bloomberg’s simple wife observed indeed, that -the seal of Emmeline’s packet had been forced; but she little guest by -whom. - -The contents of this letter immediately furnished him with the most -certain means for producing an irreconcileable hatred between Count -Donat and the potent Abbot of Curwald. The power of the latter was -beginning to appear dangerous to the Lord Governors; but they could -expect nothing but an accession of strength to themselves, while the -Count of Carlsheim and the Abbot were mutually weakening themselves in -feudal skirmishes. Such was Wolfenrad’s object in writing this -warning-letter, whose author was loaded with blessings by the -unsuspicious Helen, while waiting with a throbbing heart for the return -of her Lord. - -The night arrived. She now thought no longer of attempting to open the -door of the mysterious chamber, which she had meant to attempt at this -hour, since a principal object of her wish to visit the Hermitage was -already accomplished. Besides, the design could not then have been -possibly executed, since every one in the Castle was still awake, and -waiting with impatience for Count Donat’s return. - -It was almost morning, when some of her attendants rushed with looks of -terror into Helen’s apartment, and entreated her to ascend the upper -platform, whence she would discern towards the west indubitable marks of -some dreadful conflagration. - -—“God preserve us from some mishap!” exclaimed Helen, while she followed -her women to the battlements; the whole quarter of the heavens towards -Curwald seemed one blaze of red!—“Oh! Donat, Donat, what hast thou done? -Were there no gentler means?—Emmeline, my poor Emmeline, where art thou -at this moment?”— - -Helen’s fears were but too well-founded. Donat, in doing what he thought -it right to do, had done it in his usual manner. Wolfenrad’s letter had -given him some hints of the midnight revels, which were frequently -carried on between the inhabitants of the adjacent Convents of Curwald -and St. Roswitha. He made enquiries of the neighbouring peasants, who -were no friends of these ecclesiastical libertines; their report -confirmed the truth of Wolfenrad’s assertions; and an old man (who -declared himself particularly well informed respecting these disgraceful -secrets) added—“that on that very night there was to be a superb -entertainment given to celebrate the conversion of a Nun, who was the -last admitted.”— - -—“You may easily guess, valiant knight,” continued the old man, “what -they mean by her _conversion_. I suppose the lady (I saw her brought -into the Convent myself, and she seemed to be an angel of innocence and -beauty) was a little violent at first; and so they have at last -succeeded in taming her stern morality, as many another has been tamed -in the same way before her.”— - -—“Good heavens!” exclaimed one of the least depraved among Count Donat’s -knights; “are such things spoken of in these parts so openly, and yet is -Justice silent, and does the Bishop of Coira take no notice of such -abominations?”— - -—“Oh! the Lord have mercy on me, Sir Knight,” answered the old man, -“such things are not talked of _openly_, or so many fathers would not -plunge their children into yonder abyss of infamy! I warrant you, the -parents of this converted damsel little thought, when they sent her to -St. Roswitha, that they were placing the sweet creature in Satan’s own -claws. But when one is speaking to gallant warriors like yourselves, who -are able, and perhaps willing to help us, one must be open-hearted. I -see that you are all well-armed, and yonder tall gentleman with his -eye-brows bent so sternly and his hands clenched seems to feel for what -we poor country-folks must suffer under the dominion of these voluptuous -Monks, who make us contribute the chief part of our hard-earned gains to -the support of their luxury. As to the Bishop of Coira.... I am afraid, -you are in the right about him! The notice which _he_ takes.... Aye; -were old Hugo of Werdenberg still bishop indeed.... But the present -Bishop.... Well! well! he and his boon-companion, the Abbot of St. Gall, -make a pair of worthies indeed!”— - -While his knights were carrying on this discourse with the peasants, -their Lord, whom fury had almost deprived of his senses, was considering -what was to be done: the resolution which he took was worthy of his -character, was worthy of no one but himself. Entrance into either of the -two convents was demanded in vain; every other proposal which his -attendants suggested, was rejected as incompetent to effect his object; -at length his commands were obeyed, and by midnight St. Roswitha’s -Sanctuary was enveloped in flames. It’s true, that a spark of paternal -love still glimmered in his heart for the unfortunate Emmeline; but the -idea, that in all probability _she_ also had been _converted_ after the -fashion of the sisterhood, soon extinguished it, and he resolved to hide -her and his shame together in the ashes of St. Roswitha. Impressed with -this idea—“Drive them back into the flames!” roared the inhuman Donat, -whenever either Friar or Nun tried to rescue themselves from the -conflagration, without deigning to examine whether Emmeline might not be -one of those unfortunates. The number of monks, whom the flames -compelled to attempt their escape from St. Roswitha at this undue time -of night, confirmed the reports of the mode of life practised in the -convents; and the dresses of the Nuns, who had been arrayed for the -feast, proclaimed how little their hearts were estranged from worldly -vanities. The fire continued to spread; it now caught the adjacent Abbey -of Curwald, and before day-break there remained of both the Sanctuaries -and their infamous inhabitants nothing but heaps of smoaking ruins[2]. - -Footnote 2: - - Some historians date the burning of Cloister-Curwald several years - later than the period adopted in this narrative. - -Such was the cause of those flames, whose reflexion on the sky excited -so much consternation at Sargans: Helen’s heart had not throbbed with -sad forebodings without necessity. In the course of the morning Donat -returned home, and returned without Emmeline! - -Helen flew to meet him, and eagerly enquired, where was his daughter? -His answer was a short and cold narrative of the dreadful transaction, -which had just taken place, and the consequence was, that overpowered -with horror Helen fell senseless at the monster’s feet. When she -recovered, her first words were to ask, where he had placed Emmeline, -(for she doubted not, that previous to firing the Convent he had -provided for his daughter’s safety,) and unfortunately her question was -so worded, that it betrayed her more intimate knowledge of the business, -than was by any means suspected by Donat. This discovery converted his -unfeeling coldness into a degree of fury, that nearly approached -delirium. He seized her roughly by the arm, and demanded, in a voice of -thunder, how she came to be so well acquainted with his affairs? The -unfortunate knew no other way of extricating herself from this dilemma, -than repeating what she had heard mentioned by one of her attendants -respecting Wolfenrad’s letter, which (she confest) had so strongly -excited her anxiety about Emmeline, that she had not scrupled to piece -the fragments again together. The storm of rage was now diverted from -Helen to the woman, who had given her mistress this intelligence, and -who had it in her power to disclose much more important secrets, if she -had thought proper. - -Incensed at Count Donat’s ill-treatment of her, for which she considered -herself as indebted to Helen, Jutta resolved to disclose in her turn all -that she thought most likely to injure her mistress. Accordingly she -began an accusation, which among a thousand falsehoods contained some -truths, calculated to make Helen shudder as she listened to them. - -The Countess (Jutta said) had some time before received a packet from an -unknown messenger, who afterwards quitted the Castle with all speed, and -whose arrival she ordered to be concealed from her husband. She had also -received several letters from the hands of the dying Bertha; after -reading which she had been frequently seen loitering about the door of -that chamber, which (on account of the strange noises frequently heard -within) was supposed to be haunted. Nay, on the night before last she -had actually tried to force back the locks, but had been scared away, by -hearing Jutta’s rosary fall on the ground, while she was watching her -Lady’s proceedings concealed behind St. Martin’s statue. She had -afterwards seen through the key-hole the Countess busily employed in -writing, and during the confusion which followed Count Donat’s arrival, -had found means to get the letters into her possession; which to confirm -her story Jutta was now ready to lay before him. - -These heavy charges against Helen failed not to produce the effect -intended. Donat ordered the letters to be brought immediately: He was no -scholar; yet was he not so totally deficient in the knowledge of -writing, but that he could clearly decypher the addresses, which were -written in large characters. His eyes flashed fire, while he spelt the -names of “Eginhart of Torrenburg,” “the Abbot of Curwald,” and “Urania -Venosta, the widowed Countess of Carlsheim and Sargans.” These -directions would have been sufficient to condemn the poor Helen, even -had she been tried by a more impartial judge. It was certain, that these -three persons were her husband’s bitterest enemies; with what propriety -then could she be engaged in a secret correspondence with them? In -particular, what motive could she have for writing to the Count of -Torrenburg, who was her former lover, and had been so long her destined -bridegroom? Alas! poor Helen! appearances were sorely against thee! Nor -would Donat’s fury give him time to enquire further into the business. -In a paroxysm of rage he tore the letters into a thousand fragments, and -pronounced Helen to be in a secret correspondence with his implacable -foe, the Countess Urania for the purpose of betraying him to his -enemies; he asserted also, that she had been privy to the Abbot’s -designs upon his daughter, and had encouraged them in order to be -revenged on the father; and that she was still in love with the Count of -Torrenburg and meant to have fled to him from Sargans, an intention -which was sufficiently proved by her midnight efforts to obtain entrance -into that chamber, which concealed a private outlet from the Castle. -It’s true, that finding Emmeline had quitted that chamber of her own -accord, and thinking the knowledge of the secret passage might be of use -to himself on some future occasion, the Abbot had not mentioned to Count -Donat his suspicions, that such a passage existed; and the room had been -merely shut up from the report of its being haunted. But Wolfenrad had -learned this secret from the perusal of Amalberga’s letter to Emmeline, -and had communicated it to the Count, hoping thereby to increase the -merit of his services. Now then Donat had no doubt, that the noises, -which had been heard in that chamber, proceeded from no ghosts, but from -persons who were waiting to assist his wife in her projected flight. -Under the influence of these impressions, Helen was held convicted of -the most infamous designs, and condemned to suffer the most exemplary -chastisement. She was instantly confined in one of the strongest -dungeons, probably in that where Urania had shed so many tears; in the -mean while her tyrant with his confidents and those women of the Castle -who were most her enemies, sat in council to decide, what punishment -would be sufficiently severe to suit her crime. - -I am in doubt as to Donat’s reasons for not immediately proceeding to -the last extremities with his wife: that sentiment towards her, which he -had chosen to dignify with the name of love, had long ago disappeared; -and his late atrocious act, which had proved the destruction of the -whole Orders of Curwald and St. Roswitha, had left him no scruples to -overcome. One murder more or less, what did that signify to a man, who -had arrived at so dreadful a height of guilt?—The most probable cause -for Donat’s moderation was, _fear_: Helen was the Count of Homburg’s -daughter; was niece to the Count of Mayenfield; and had been affianced -to the Count of Torrenburg, who it was well known, would not suffer her -to be injured with impunity. These considerations made Donat hesitate, -as to the course which he was now to pursue. - -Donat past two days in resolving, whether it would not be possible to -bring Helen to confess herself guilty. This would justify him in the -eyes of her relations for any severity, which he might think proper to -inflict upon her; but when he considered his wife’s character, he saw -little prospect of persuading her to declare herself infamous. In the -mean while Helen was suffered to remain tranquil in her dungeon; and her -husband was still meditating how to avoid the vengeance of her friends, -when the Castle was unexpectedly attacked by enemies incensed upon a -different account. He might indeed have foreseen, that the Bishop of -Coira would not pass over the destruction of Cloister-Curwald in -silence; occupied however by his anger against Helen, Donat had bestowed -no thought upon the Bishop; and the avengers of the Monks of Curwald -were at the gates of Sargans, before any one had even bestowed a thought -on the possibility of such an attack. - -Helen heard from her prison the noise of the assault, the shouts of the -victors, and the expiring groans of those who fell beneath their swords; -but her spirit was too much broken to enable her to guess at what was -passing, or to offer up prayers or wishes for the success of either -party. She lay almost in a state of insensibility, when the door of her -dungeon was thrown open. The Count of Carlsheim entered, snatched her -rudely from the earth, and more by gestures than speech, commanded her -attendance. She followed her conductor in silence, like a lamb to the -slaughter; he saw, that she was scarcely able to move through weakness, -and either out of compassion or cruelty compelled her to swallow a -cordial. She gradually recovered herself sufficiently to remark, that -her husband was habited like a pilgrim on the point of setting out on -some long journey, and that he guided her towards a part of the Castle -remote from the clamour of the combat. Here they found a domestic -waiting with a torch, who in a low voice and with few words assured his -Lord, that the passage was still safe. A door, artfully concealed in the -wall, was now unlocked, and Helen was commanded to ascend the -stair-case, which presented itself before her. - -She was too wreak, too hopeless, to think it worth while to make any -reflections on Donat’s unaccountable conduct in regaining the upper -apartments of the fortress, (which, she was convinced, was already in -the enemy’s possession,) instead of employing these precious moments to -effect his escape. They now arrived at the door of that chamber, which -concealed the entrance to the subterraneous passages: the touch of a -single key was sufficient to make all the seven locks fly back. Donat -entered, and compelled his unhappy wife to follow him; he then took the -torch from the domestic, and commanded him to execute his orders without -delay, and then to provide for his own safety. The servant bowed, and -retired. - -Now then Helen was at length in that very spot, which she had so -anxiously wished to visit, but not with such a companion. Donat paused -for a moment; and she could hear distinctly, that the domestic fastened -the door through which she had entered, not omitting a single lock. Her -tyrant left her no time for reflecting on the purpose for which she had -been conducted hither; he hastened to unclose the secret door which led -to Urania’s baths, dragged her through it, and then commanded her to -proceed, having first taken care to fasten the door after him. - -Helen obeyed, and as she moved slowly forwards, through the -subterraneous passages, she observed that her husband occasionally -examined the side-walls with his hand or foot. At length he stopped -before a small door half sunk in the ground; he forced it open with a -violence which shook the whole cavern, and held his torch within, in -order to examine it. - -—“Yes, yes!” said he, “this is it! Found in good time!—Helen, return! or -canst thou find the way through these vaults without assistance?”— - -She dragged her feeble steps towards him: he grasped her arm, and dashed -her with violence down a few steps terminating in a small cave. She sank -on the ground with a shriek of pain, which her tyrant answered by a -burst of diabolical laughter. - -—“Here, traitress!” he exclaimed; “here is the place of your punishment -and your perdition; and here is the last nourishment, which you shall -ever receive on this side the grave. I give it not out of compassion, -but that you may not perish in your present state of stupor, and thus -escape the sense of what I have doomed you to suffer.—Eat! revive to the -full consciousness of your misery; then die in agony, as others have -died here before you!”— - -Thus saying, he placed by her side a loaf of bread and a small flask of -water, which he had brought with him in his pilgrim’s scrip. She was not -in a condition to make him any answer, and listened in morbid silence, -while he quitted the cave, flinging the door after him with violence, -and carefully barricading it on the outside to prevent her escape. - -Nothing now animated the frame of Helen but mere animal life; and even -that was half extinguished by the shock which she had sustained the day -before and by long abstinence from all nourishment. She was scarcely -conscious of what had past, and it afterwards cost her no little -difficulty to recall the recollection of it. Instinct made her seize -eagerly the food, of which she had so long been deprived; and the -relief, which this afforded her, was the first thing, which brought her -to herself, and gave her spirits to ask the question—“What has happened -to me? Whither have I been conveyed?”—She thought, that she must be the -sport of some fantastic vision, and with the sensation of being totally -exhausted she closed her eyes, and endeavoured to end her dream. - -A violent shock, which made the hollow ground tremble beneath her, -forced her to start up in terror; and she now had strength and -recollection sufficient to rush forward a few paces, which brought her -to the steps, down which Count Donat had so lately dashed her. An -instant after she was sensible of a second shock like that of an -earthquake, and which was accompanied by a noise so loud, that for a few -moments she was completely stunned. On recovering herself, she was -sensible of a strong current of air blowing into the cave: her heart -beat violently with hope and fear, while she thought it possible, that -the late earthquake might have forced the dungeon open. She hastened up -the steps, and with rapture ascertained by the touch that the door had -been driven from its fastenings, and that nothing prevented her from -quitting her prison. With as much speed, as her extreme weakness and the -total obscurity would permit, she hastened to profit by this -interposition of Providence. She crept along slowly and cautiously, when -on turning a corner she perceived a distant gleam of light. With -increased hopes she made the best of her way towards it, and found, that -it proceeded from Count Donat’s torch, as it lay half extinguished in -the rubbish, among which it had fallen. - -Without giving herself time to guess, what motive could have induced her -husband to throw away his only guide through the gloom, or how he could -have found his way out of these intricate passages without its aid, she -caught it eagerly from the ground, cleared the wick from the dust with -which it was clogged, and made the flame burn brightly; while she -frequently cast a look of anxiety round her, lest some one should be -advancing to rob her of this invaluable prize. This apprehension made -her proceed with still greater exertion of speed; but she had not gone -far, before her way was barred by large heaps of stones and earth: she -fancied too, that she heard a faint murmur at no great distance, like -some one groaning. She stopped; she listened;—it struck her, that from -beneath a pile of stones, which seemed to have lately fallen down, there -came a voice, whose accents were familiar to her; but before she could -recover herself from the horror, which this idea occasioned her -sufficiently to ascertain the truth of her suspicions, a third shock, -similar to the two first, but if possible more violent and terrible, -overpowered her faculties so completely, that she sank upon the earth, -unable to move for several minutes. Fortunately her torch was not -extinguished by her fall. She rose; the way, so lately open before her, -was now completely blocked up by the earth, which had fallen in; and it -seemed to her in the first moments of terror, that she saw the roof -tottering above, and felt the ground giving way beneath her. Fear gave -her strength, and she fled hastily down a side passage, which accident -presented to her, nor rested, till she thought, that the place, which -she had reached, was not totally unknown to her. She stopped, and -looking down discovered lying on the earth, torn from its hinges, and -considerably shattered the low door of that dungeon, which Donat had -destined for her grave. - -She now exerted her whole strength to pass onwards, without falling into -an enormous chasm, which had been formed by the late convulsion, and -which occupied almost the whole breadth of the passage. She shuddered, -as she remarked, that the earth had fallen into the dungeon, and would -infallibly have smothered her, had she remained there but a few minutes -longer. - -She reached the opposite side of the chasm with much difficulty, but -unhurt. She was now certain, that the Castle was at no great distance: -but she dreaded either to miss the proper road, or to find it rendered -impassable by earth and rubbish. Should either happen, she had no -alternative left but perishing of hunger in these frightful dungeons: -nor had she much time left her for deliberation, since her torch already -began to draw towards its end. Observing this, she rushed forwards with -desperate resolution, and committed herself to the guidance of chance. -Accident, or rather a benevolent Providence directed her footsteps; and -she reached the staircase and Urania’s chamber, before her strength -entirely failed her. Here then she rested at length; but that rest was -insensibility. - -After some time her recollection returned. She raised herself, and saw -with surprise, that the chamber, which Donat to favour his escape had -caused to be fastened so carefully, was filled with people. She felt, -that they conveyed her to a couch, and rendered her every possible -assistance; and she heard them make a thousand kind enquiries respecting -her health and her wishes: but her strength both of mind and body was so -completely exhausted, that she found it impossible to pronounce a word, -or even make a sign, that she was sensible of their attentions. - -It was pain, which enabled her to give the first token of sensation. Her -arms and bosom were much bruised, and the blood streamed copiously from -a wound on her head. She has never been able to recollect, whether she -received these injuries, when Donat threw her down the dungeon steps, or -from her being struck by the falling stones while making her escape. The -persons, who surrounded her couch, lost no time in binding up her -wounds, and the pain of this operation forced from her a feeble cry. -Finding that she was now sensible, they repeated their enquiries as to -what had happened to her, and how she had been brought into so terrible -a condition. She stammered out the word “earthquake!” Where was Count -Donat, was the next demand, which she answered by pointing to the -private door conducting to the vaults. - -She was soon removed to a more quiet chamber, and the care which was -taken of her convinced her, that she had not fallen into the hands of -enemies. - -On the fourth day she was already declared to be convalescent; and it -was announced to her, that the Commander of the Bishop of Coira’s -forces, which had, conquered the Castle, requested an audience of her. -She consented to receive him, and shortly after a young man of -prepossessing appearance entered the room. - -—“Noble Lady,” said he, “though you are the wife of the cruel owner of -this fortress, we are well aware, that you are not a partner in his -crimes. His people are some of them slain; others have betaken -themselves to flight; and it is in vain, that we have endeavoured to -find the place of his concealment. Your pointing out the door into the -vaults has not been sufficient; he cannot have made his escape through -that passage, since the falling-in of the roof has rendered it -impracticable; and had he in his flight been overtaken by the vengeance -of Heaven, how could _you_ have avoided the sharing his fate? Be frank -with us, noble Lady; I conjure you in the name of humanity, tell us, -where he is concealed, and depend on our dealing better with him, than -he has been accustomed to deal with others.”— - -Helen mustered up all her strength, and endeavoured to relate the -circumstances of her escape: but anxiety to be as brief as possible, and -her endeavours to conceal Donat’s ill-usage of her, (which she thought, -duty to her husband forbade her revealing,) rendered every thing she -said obscure and improbable. She mentioned the earthquake, and to prove -it showed the bruises and wounds, which it had occasioned her. The -stranger, however, assured her, that she must have received them in some -other manner, for that no one in the Castle had perceived the slightest -symptoms of an earthquake. - -Helen, however, endeavoured to establish her assertion; and while -recalling the various circumstances which had passed in the caverns, she -suddenly recollected the groans, which had struck her hearing. She -earnestly entreated, that the heap of rubbish might be examined; she was -obeyed; the stones were removed, and beneath them was discovered the -shattered and lifeless form of the Count of Carlsheim. - -It was now the general opinion, that the violence which Donat had used -in forcing open the dungeon-door, had shattered the rotten cavern, had -made the supports crack, and had brought down the roof, whose fall had -involved in it his own destruction. - -Helen’s horror at this discovery, her urgent entreaties that the corse -might have christian burial, and the many hours which she past in -prayers for the repose of Donat’s spirit, startled the present masters -of the Castle not a little. They began to suspect, that she was not by -any means so innocent a creature, and so unfortunate a victim of -conjugal tyranny, as she had been represented, and as in truth she was. -They therefore ceased to trouble her with questions, considering her as -the confidante and accomplice of Count Donat’s crimes; but as they had -no other fault to lay to her charge, and as the power of her relations -compelled them to treat her with respect, as soon as she was -sufficiently recovered, she was removed to the Convent of Zurich, and -left there with a hint by no means equivocal,—“that all things -considered, she would do well to pass the remainder of her days within -that sanctuary.”— - -Helen’s joy at understanding, that she had been conveyed to Zurich, was -indescribable: she immediately requested to see the venerable Countess -Urania, and discovered to the patroness of her mother both herself and -all that had happened. It was now, that her fate seemed disposed to -abate its severity. In an unrestrained intercourse with this excellent -woman, who received her with open arms, and to whom she unveiled her -whole heart, she looked forward to a life of tranquil happiness. -Urania’s conversation poured balsam into her wounded soul, and explained -to her many things, which had hitherto appeared to her unaccountable. -Donat’s resolution to make her his wife was produced by a former -passion, which he had entertained for her mother, and by a desire to be -revenged on her father, the Count of Homburg; and that unknown cavern to -which he had conducted her, was doubtless the same, in which (as it was -reported) the worthy father of such a son had starved to death two of -the fugitive monks of Curwald. Oh! Towers of Sargans, what crimes have -been committed within your gloomy bounds! And will then the vengeance of -the Eternal Judge sleep for ever? Will neither the heavens rain down -fire to consume you, nor the earth unclose to swallow you in its womb, -and thus prevent you from reminding posterity of those horrible acts, to -which you have been so long a witness?—Yet the blood of your barbarous -master has purified you, and you are now the abode of innocence and -virtue. Peace, long peace be with you, and be with your lawful -possessors; and may the curse of retribution only fall on those, who -shall dare to deprive those possessors of their right! - -Solitude and experience sometimes endow the soul, which has withdrawn -itself from earth to devote itself to Heaven, with a prophetic power. -Even now I see into futurity! I see, that the family of Carlsheim and -Sargans, which has already suffered so much, has still much more to -suffer; but again I say it—“Alas for those, by whom the descendants of -Amalberga and Emmeline shall be robbed of their lawful inheritance, and -compelled to experience the calamities of their predecessors.”— - -I have deviated from my narrative, to which I now return.—Helen lived -tranquil by Urania’s side, equally unconscious of the evil reports, -which were circulated respecting her late misfortunes by her enemies, -and of the benevolent intentions of her powerful friends. Her parents -soon visited her at Zurich, and now that she was a widow, requested her -to accept the hand of her former bridegroom, the Count of Torrenburg: -but Helen knew but too well, that no Count of Torrenburg existed for -_her_. She had courageously torn his image from her heart; and she -avowed to her friends her knowledge of his passion for Amalberga, and -declared, that to see them happy in the possession of each other was now -the only wish of her heart. - -Helen’s relations listened to this declaration with no trifling regret: -they would willingly have rewarded her for her past sufferings by the -certainty, that the remainder of her life would be past in happiness -with one of the noblest of Helvetian youths. But they had brought with -them (for the purpose of persuading Helen to the proposed marriage) some -of Torrenburg’s relations, to whom his passion for Amalberga was by no -means so unpleasant a subject. She was now a rich heiress; as Count -Donat’s only surviving daughter, she was entitled to the extensive -domains of Carlsheim and Sargans, and consequently she was a much more -advantageous match than Helen. This gave rise to some disputes between -the friends of the different parties: but the solemn declaration of -Count Donat’s widow, that she never would lay aside that name, at length -silenced every opposition; and she obtained from them all a promise, -that they would mutually exert themselves to accomplish the only wish, -which she indulged on this side of the grave; namely, the union of -Eginhart of Torrenburg with Amalberga of Sargans. They were informed by -her, that according to Amabel’s letter the lady was concealed in the -Convent of Engelberg, and thither they hastened to apprize her of the -happiness, which awaited her. - -I need not say, that they sought her there in vain; the Count of -Torrenburg’s endeavours to discover her were also unsuccessful, till the -arrival of Bloomberg, who assured him, that she must be in Landenberg’s -power, and that the most likely place to look for her was the Fortress -of Rassburg. The consequence of this information was a bond of union -between Torrenburg and the Friends of Freedom against Landenberg and his -brother in iniquity, the insolent Gessler; and the Count immediately -accompanied Bloomberg to Stein, that he might consult with his new -allies the best means for effecting Landenberg’s overthrow and -Amalberga’s deliverance. - -In the mean while William Tell’s plan, for throwing off the Governor’s -yoke, and asserting the liberty of his beloved country, had been -gradually ripening. The impression, which he and his friends, Walter -Forest, Bernsdorf, and the two Melthals, had made upon the general mind -was great, and their adherents were numerous; but the success of their -enterprise still depended entirely upon its being kept a profound -secret. Those men, whose plans were soon to burst out into flames -terrible as the explosion of a volcano, and to give posterity an example -of heroic devotion to the cause of Freedom, were as yet compelled to -work in darkness, and arrange their vast designs in corners and by -stealth. - -It was not till the 28th of December (being the Festival of St. -Alexander) that they ventured to muster their numbers in a large meadow -near the Lake of the Four Cantons; this was to be their last conference, -and even this they took the precaution of holding under covert of the -night. The Count of Torrenburg and Edmund Bloomberg were also present; -but the former by his impatience had nearly ruined the whole design. -Conscious of his exalted station, and of the valour of his new allies, -he could not endure the degrading idea of skulking about in darkness and -concealment, as if he were plotting the execution of some crime. He -insisted upon an instant declaration of hostility against Landenberg, -and that an attempt to rescue his beloved should be made without delay: -it was not without difficulty that William Tell convinced him, how -impossible it would be to rescue Amalberga any other way than by -artifice, without exposing her to the most imminent danger; and that he -persuaded him to wait patiently till St. Sylvester’s Eve, when (it was -determined) the tyrant should have an open and forcible attack made upon -him; though in making that attack, there would still be an absolute -necessity for conducting it with the utmost caution. - -Amalberga’s friends had obtained some intelligence respecting her -present situation. One of Arnold Melthal’s sons, a spirited lad, equally -well adapted to daring enterprise and the winding paths of artifice, -found means to enter the Fortress of Rassburg in disguise, and examine -whether any thing could be attempted towards the rescue of the lady. -During her abode on the banks of the Lake of Thun, her sweetness and -humility of manners; her majestic air accompanied by the condescension -of an angel; the little difference which she seemed to make between -herself and the girls of the village, whom she honoured with the name of -her companions; all these together had made her an universal favourite; -and had not every appearance of a chain been hateful in the eyes of the -sons of Freedom, it would have been easy for Amalberga to have -established herself as the queen of one of the best people that the -earth holds, and to have mounted Helvetia’s throne by general -acclamation. - -To an eager desire for rescuing this adored lady from the power of -Landenberg, was now united the wish to gain possession of the strong -Castle of Rassburg; which would secure to Helvetia the success of all -those mighty plans, whose accomplishment still lay concealed within the -bosom of futurity. - -Alwyn, Arnold Melthal’s son, when he ventured to approach the fortress -in disguise, was not aware, that his was one of those countenances, -which cannot pass unobserved. Fortunately, the eyes, whose notice he -attracted, were those of one, by whom features like his were seldom -viewed with displeasure. Landenberg happened to be absent, and had left -his fair prisoner to the charge of a female attendant, who had formerly -stood high in his estimation for the sake of her own beauty, and who now -preserved her influence with him by condescending to watch over those, -who were in present possession of that heart, to which she was herself -become indifferent. Well skilled in manly beauty, she no sooner saw -Alwyn pass along with a bucket on his head (for he had obtained entrance -into Rassburg under the disguise of a common water-carrier) than she was -convinced of his being something better, than his dress denoted. She -accosted, and questioned him. His affected simplicity could not deceive -her; and he saw himself compelled either to adopt some artifice, or to -be reduced to that suspicious silence, which in such a situation would -have been scarcely better than a confession of the truth. - -—“And so you continue to deny,” continued the girl, “that there is any -secret reason for a man like you being here, habited in a manner to -which, I am certain, you have never been accustomed? Young man, be frank -with me! I should be sorry to give you over to some other questioner, -who might use rough means to obtain an answer, or to order that you -should be kept in custody, till the Governor returns. Then tell me -honestly at once, who you are, and what motive has brought you hither?”— - -Alwyn during this speech had examined the countenance of his new -acquaintance, and fancied, that he could read in it marks of a -partiality for him by no means doubtful. His resolution was taken in a -moment, and he threw himself at her feet. - -—“What brought me hither?” he exclaimed; “’twas Love, most beautiful of -all earthly creatures! But who I am.... Ah! shall I dare to avow myself -one of the lowliest among the inhabitants of yonder valley, and thus -make it certain, that my suit will be rejected, and myself driven with -scorn from the presence of her whom I adore?”— - -—“And who is it that you adore?” demanded Ursula. - -“You, lovely angel! you!” he exclaimed passionately, while he seized her -hand, and prest upon it a thousand kisses; “my heart is devoted to you -alone, and your cruelty will kill me!”— - -The astonished and delighted Ursula forced herself from his embrace, and -fled; but it was not long before she returned, anxious to convince -herself, that her half-faded charms had really made so valuable a -conquest. To make a woman’s vanity believe any thing flattering, Heaven -knows, is no difficult task; and half an hour was sufficient to leave -her no doubt of her triumph. She soon grew weary of playing the prude, -and she gave him to understand, that he would not find her heart -absolutely marble; and thus did the handsome Alwyn find himself involved -in an amour, at whose termination he could not guess, and of which, -while it lasted, he thought, that he had but little reason to be vain. - -At present he reaped no great advantages from his artifice. It was -impossible to get a sight of Amalberga, or convey to her a hint, that -her friends in the valley were making preparations for her rescue. He -was also soon compelled to retire by the return of the Governor, who was -now frequently absent for days together from Rassburg on account of the -popular disturbances, and who could only bestow a few isolated hours on -the prosecution of his suit to the heiress of Sargans. As soon as the -warder’s horn announced the Governor’s return, Ursula (who trembled, -lest her supposed lover should be discovered by others, as he had been -by her) requested him to be gone; yet still there was a secret means -left for him to gain entrance into the fortress of the rock, which -(disagreeable as it was) for Amalberga’s sake and the general advantage, -he did not refuse to employ. At midnight his doating inamorata used to -let a bucket down through a chasm in the wall; the rock was steep and -flat; the unwilling Lover was then drawn up to the top, where he was -obliged to purchase every little scrap of intelligence, which it was -requisite for him to know, by a thousand lies and flattering speeches; -every one of which, to an heart filled with Helvetian honesty, was -scarcely less painful than the stab of a dagger. - -He was rewarded, however, for this sacrifice by obtaining the important -information, that hitherto Landenberg’s behaviour towards the Lady of -Sargans had been restrained within the limits of the most respectful -adoration: but that he had assured her with the most dreadful -imprecations, that a period was fixed, beyond which he would no longer -submit to be the patient victim of her severity. The first day of the -ensuing year, he was determined, should make the cruel beauty completely -his by fair means or by force. This intelligence induced Alwyn to be -more frequent in his midnight visits; he repeated them, till every part -of the fortress was become perfectly familiar, and till every little -circumstance had been carefully gleaned by him, which might assist his -friends in their design of storming the fort and rescuing the lovely -captive. - -By the Festival of St. Sylvester every necessary preparation was -completed; and all the machines were ready to be worked at once in -various parts of the country, which might secure the success of an -enterprise, of whose views the release of an imprisoned damsel made but -a very trifling part—those views were of the most extensive nature; yet -if the plan had failed, in spite of the justice of Tell’s cause -posterity would no doubt have branded him with the name of rebel, and -confounded him with the common herd of unsuccessful adventurers, who -have dared to attempt objects beyond their power to attain. But as his -plan was arranged with the utmost foresight, and its execution was -followed with the most prosperous issue, after-ages have viewed his deed -with admiration, have reckoned it as the proudest triumph of the rights -of nature over cruelty and oppression, and have bestowed on its author -the title of a Hero: so certain is it, that actions are almost always -weighed according to their result, and the most impartial judge (without -being aware of it) is frequently induced to decide unfairly of events, -dazzled by the lustre of the success with which they were attended. - -Had nothing but the Count of Torrenburg’s inclination been consulted, -the attempt, which was to decide upon his future happiness or despair, -would not have been deferred till the latest day possible; neither when -it _was_ made, would so small a number of men have been employed to -carry it into effect. Perhaps in this respect something would have been -sacrificed in consideration of the impatience natural to a lover; but -Helvetia’s deliverers were not without a certain portion of that -obstinacy, which so often accompanies valour and resolution. -Torrenburg’s opinion would doubtless have had more influence with them, -had he not been a nobleman and one who was able to bring so powerful a -force either to their aid or against them. They considered the most -distant trace of authority over them with abhorrence, and were -determined, that every step, which they made in the service of liberty, -should be taken of their own free will. It was certain, that the -fortress was but ill garrisoned, and that its security consisted solely -in its inaccessible situation: in spite therefore of Torrenburg’s -entreaties and anger, they resolved, that no more than one hundred men -should be allotted for this service; and among these the jealous -Helvetians, who could not endure that any hands but their own should -break their fetters, would not suffer one of Torrenburg’s warriors to be -introduced. It was not without some difficulty, that the Count obtained -permission to accompany the party himself, and to be the next to Alwyn -Melthal, who should penetrate into the Castle of Rassburg. - -Never did any summer’s day seem so long to the Count as St. Sylvester’s, -while he waited with impatience for the departure of light. No sooner -was it dark, than the allies began to assemble by twos and threes from -different quarters. It was one of the most gloomy winter nights, that -ever favoured a secret enterprise; and the glimmering taper, which was -the usual signal for Alwyn to ascend the wall, was not yet discernible. -Midnight was already past; still there was no token of Ursula’s -approach; when suddenly the trampling of horses was heard, and the gleam -of approaching torches showed them a body of soldiers coming from the -Castle by a path, which was well guarded by sentinels and provided with -several draw-bridges. Landenberg was at the head of the troop. Unmoved -by her tears and fainting, he had just informed Amalberga, that he -should return the next day to hear her final decision; and he was now -bending his course to Sarno, in order to exact the usual new-year’s gift -from the inhabitants of the Valley, and hear them renew the oath of -submission to their Leige-Lord, the Emperor. It was an established -custom of the vice-gerents to receive from the hands of the vassals on -the first day of the new year, what little had escaped their extortion -during the old one; in return for which they never failed to promise -greater indulgence for the future, nor in spite of that promise to -conduct themselves with increased oppression. - -As he journeyed onwards, Landenberg recapitulated to himself the -advantages, which this year had produced to him; the quantity of wealth -which he had collected in gold, jewels, and other valuables; the -possession of the lovely Amalberga, whom he already looked upon as his -own; and above all, the power of throwing off the wearisome mask of -hypocrisy, which he had at first been compelled to assume. - -—“As to Gessler’s death,” said he to himself, “that has rather improved -my situation, than done me any harm. It has relieved me from the rival -of my greatness, and authorises me to exercise that severity, which is -necessary for my own views, under the fair-sounding name of just -revenge. These late unavailing efforts to oppose my will have convinced -me, that I have to do with a weak, powerless people, who may be incensed -indeed so far as to make some show of resistance at first, but whom -firmness and chastisement will soon reduce within the limits of abject -submission. There are not many Tells among them, God be thanked! He was -the only man whom I feared, and luckily he is either dead, or a -voluntary exile in some distant country; report says the former; but let -him be where he will, so he be not here to spirit up my slaves against -me with his poisonous influence. _My_ slaves? Right; they are mine, no -other’s. The ensuing year will, I trust, make clear to the world, for -_whom_ I am labouring, and whose advantage and peril are most implicated -in the business! Then when I have attained the height at which I aim, -doubtless my new dignity being shared with their adored Amalberga will -have no slight influence in reconciling these people to my authority; -and her popularity will induce them to protect her husband against the -wrath of the deceived Emperor. The precious prize once secure, I shall -then have no need of this assumed severity; the affection of my subjects -will suffice to preserve them in obedience; I shall be at liberty to -follow the bent of my inclinations by ruling with a gentle sway; and all -of us will at once be made happy, Amalberga, myself, and the country -which we govern.”— - -Such was the subject of Landenberg’s reflections, many of which he -occasionally imparted to some of his confidential attendants, as he rode -along, totally unconscious of the foes so near him, and of the danger -which threatened the speedy overthrow of all his ambitious hopes and -projects. Here and there a sentence or two spoken in a louder voice than -ordinary reached the hearing of the Helvetians, who were concealed among -the various caverns Of the Castle-rock: and then was many a sword half -drawn from the scabbard to impose eternal silence upon the insolent -boaster. The vigilance of the prudent chiefs, however, and consideration -for the public welfare compelled them to repress their unseasonable -zeal. An over-hasty attack would have been sufficient to ruin every -thing. Landenberg, it’s true, would probably have perished, but only to -make room for a successor perhaps even worse than himself. The object -here was not to make away with a single tyrant; no, it was to throw off -a disgraceful yoke for ever, and to bequeath the precious treasure -Liberty to their children, and to the children of their children even -down to the latest posterity. Landenberg therefore was suffered to -proceed with his attendants unmolested; nothing gave them warning of the -danger, which lurked so near, except now and then a low whispering noise -among the brambles, which made their hair stand an end, for it was now -the ghostly hour; and as they dreaded its being something supernatural, -the sound only served to make those who heard it pursue their course -with the greater speed. - -Scarcely had the last horseman disappeared in the farther part of the -Valley, or rather scarcely had darkness dropt her thick curtain between -the enemies; scarcely had the mountain-echoes ceased to reverberate the -last sound of the hoofs of their steeds, when Alwyn’s guiding-star made -its appearance: Ursula’s lamp was seen glimmering on the battlements -above. A few hasty words were spoken among the confederates respecting -the conduct of the enterprise; the last directions were given; and then -young Melthal sprang into the bucket destined to convey him to her who -expected him so impatiently, and whom he now met for the last time with -expressions of pretended love. It was no trifling sacrifice, which poor -Alwyn made on this occasion to the general welfare. To conceal the -feelings of his honest guileless heart; to dissemble love for one who -was totally indifferent to him; in many a rude tempestuous night to -encounter dangers, such as nothing but the most sincere and ardent -passion would have induced any other man to risk; and then at last to -throw aside the mask, and to hear himself called a betrayer and a -hypocrite, and called so with justice; this task was a most painful one, -and keenly did Alwyn feel that his situation was disgraceful. Yet he -thought, that even _this_ sacrifice was not too much to make for his -native land; and duty and patriotism made him submit to do that, which -was of all things the most cruel to his feelings, and repugnant to his -nature; they made him submit to play the hypocrite. - -Silently lamenting the ignominious character which he was obliged to -sustain, Alwyn followed his supposed mistress to a retired chamber, -where (she told him) they should be secure from disturbance till -morning; for hitherto the fear of discovery had only suffered their -interviews to last for a few minutes. But at the moment when she -expected to receive the kiss of ardent love, and when she turned to her -lover after having carefully closed the door, to her utter astonishment -a gag was forced into her half-opened mouth; and then seizing her arms, -her supposed admirer fastened them with strong cords to the bed-posts. -It is true, that the general safety had been declared to require the -death of this wretched creature; but the noble heart of Alwyn revolted -at the idea. Even the precautions, which circumstances now made it -absolutely necessary for him to take, caused his cheeks to burn with -indignation against himself; he took care to confine Ursula’s hands in -such a way, that the pressure of the bonds could give her no pain; nor -could he resolve to leave even a creature, whom in his heart he -despised, a prey to absolute despair. - -—“Fear nothing, Ursula,” said he in a gentle voice, while quitting the -room; “every thing shall be explained shortly, and on my soul no harm -shall happen to you”—a promise, which was religiously fulfilled. - -Alwyn now hastened back to the battlements, and drew up the Count of -Torrenburg in the same manner, by which he had ascended himself; and -anxious as Eginhart was to fly to Amalberga’s assistance, still did he -not quit his station, till two more of the confederates were safely -landed on the platform of the Castle. These in their turn rendered the -same service to their companions, and a sufficient number were soon -mustered within the wails to authorize their proceeding to more -hazardous attempts. Half of them seized the sleeping sentinels, while -the rest without noise made the best of their way to the great gate. -They opened it, and the approach through the rock was soon made -practicable for the remainder of their friends, whom time had not -permitted to ascend in the bucket. - -No slight expectations had been entertained by the Helvetians, that this -midnight attack would have made them masters of Rassburg, without its -costing them a single drop of blood; but they had miscounted the -strength of the garrison. Sufficient opposition was made to compel the -besiegers to purchase their conquest dearly. Many a brave Helvetian bit -the dust, and shared the grave of the enemy, who had just expired at his -feet. The dawn of morning discovered the walls of the Castle of the Rock -dyed with the blood both of friends and foes. By the time that the sun -was fully risen, the work was completed; Helvetia’s sons had achieved -their object, and the sheaths once more received their bloody swords. -The chiefs now employed themselves in giving orders and making -dispositions to preserve their conquest, while Torrenburg flew to -deliver his Amalberga. He found her in a stately chamber; she was on her -knees praying for _him_. The noise of the combat had roused her from -sleep; yet convinced that her situation could not alter for the worse, -she experienced no alarm for herself, till as the clash of arms -occasionally drew nearer to her chamber door, she heard the name of -Torrenburg shouted, and concluded, that he was among the combatants: -then _indeed_ she trembled, and sought refuge from her terrors in -supplication to her Patron-Saint. The heart of the pious girl was full -of confidence in the Divine justice: she doubted not, that the Ruler of -all things had decreed every thing for the best; she knew, that neither -herself nor Torrenburg had _merited_ to suffer, and she trusted, that -Heaven would act towards her with gentleness. In her supplications -therefore she rather spoke of the goodness of Providence, than implored -its help: or if she prayed for any thing, it was that a speedy stop -might be put to the shedding of blood, of whose flowing she was but too -well convinced by the clashing of arms, and the dying groans of some, -who were slaughtered at no great distance from her chamber. - -A long and fearful silence now succeeded. Suddenly her door was thrown -open, and a knight in complete armour entered the room. He hastened -towards her, raised his visor, and well did she recollect the noble -countenance of him, whose portrait was engraved on her heart in -characters indelible: but she recollected also his engagements to Helen; -she was conscious of her danger and the weakness of her heart, and -attempted to force away the hand, which he had seized, and prest to his -lips with passion. It was long, before she recovered from her surprise -and confusion sufficiently to comprehend the whole extent of those -delightful views, which were now presented before her by indulgent -Fortune. - -A Nun is but a sorry describer of love-scenes; and she, who traces this -narrative, though she may not perhaps have always been a stranger to -tender sentiments, still is unwilling to dwell longer than is necessary -upon those, which filled the heart of the happy Amalberga, when she sank -into her lover’s arms, and murmured—“Torrenburg, I am thine!”—I have -since been assured, that in these first moments of rapture the name of -Helen was not forgotten. In truth some trifling recollection, some -little portion of gratitude at least was due to the unfortunate, who to -procure the happiness of Amalberga and Torrenburg had not hesitated to -immolate her own. The sacrifice was indeed a most difficult and painful -one; but never did Helen once regret, that she had made it. - -While the lovers forgot every thing in the contemplation of those -flattering prospects, which futurity showed them on all sides; and while -the Helvetians were employed in taking every possible precaution, that -might preserve to them the Fortress, of which they had so valiantly -obtained possession; the other Patriots (as had been previously -arranged) were carrying their glorious designs into execution in -different parts of the country. - -Peregrine of Landenberg had reached Castle-Sarno before day-break. He -slept for a few hours, and then rose to welcome the day, which, he was -determined, should see him the husband of the Heiress of Sargans. He had -commanded, that towards evening a strong guard should conduct her -thither from Rassburg, when a Friar, belonging to the Abbot of St. Gall, -and who was entirely devoted to the Governor, had engaged to perform the -marriage ceremony between them: whether with her consent, or without it, -the good father cared but little. - -Anxious to give as creditable an appearance as possible to this most -important transaction of his life, Landenberg thought it best for the -general edification to open the day’s business by walking in solemn -procession to the neighbouring church. For this purpose he was already -descending the great staircase accompanied by a numerous train of -courtiers, when he was informed, that the inhabitants of the adjacent -districts had assembled in the valley below, each bringing the -accustomed New-year’s offering. - -Landenberg had great confidence in omens; he looked upon it as a pledge -of future good fortune, that before he had set his foot without the -Castle-walls, his course was impeded by presents. The procession to the -church was deferred for awhile: part of his attendants were sent to take -charge of the gifts, which had been brought to him; of the fatted oxen, -the corn, the fruit, the cloth woven by the skilful hands of the -industrious Helvetian housewives; the casks of wine; and here and there -a few bags of coin, which were not the least welcome part of the -offerings. In the mean while the Governor himself remained in the -front-court, attended by a few of his most confidential attendants, and -prepared for the reception of “the slaves of his servants,” as it was -usual for him to term the brave Helvetians. - -The deputation arrived. It consisted of fifty persons, with Henric -Melthal at their head, Henric, on whose locks eighty winters had now -shed their snows. - -—“Lord Governor,” said the venerable man, approaching Landenberg, “the -old year expired yesterday; the new one begins to-day. How you have -sustained the character of Imperial Majesty among the opprest children -of a free-born nation, that is _your_ affair. How we begin the new, is -_our’s_! Be God the judge between you and us, Peregrine of Landenberg; -God, who has already judged Gessler, as he will judge you! But as for -you, my sons, do as ye see me do, nor hesitate to lay down your lives in -the cause of liberty and justice.”— - -It is inconceivable to me, how the daring old man was suffered to -proceed so far in his speech. The Almighty must have struck a panic into -the tyrant and his base dependents; but now recovering themselves, they -hastily drew their side-weapons, which (from being rather intended for -ornament than use, and able to do but little injury) were generally -called “holy-swords.” Some, who were unprovided with even these weak -instruments, hastened into the Castle in search of arms; in the mean -while old Melthal and his trusty companions had drawn concealed -pike-heads from under their cloaks, which they fixed dexterously and -with promptitude on the tops of their long white staves; and now was the -signal given for beginning a massacre, which once commenced was not -concluded hastily. Among the first who fell was the Governor. The feeble -arm of Henric Melthal, strengthened by Heaven and the justice of his -cause, gave the decisive blow; and Edmund Bloomberg hastened to -extricate his father-in-law from the crowd of those, who (now that they -were recovered from their first consternation) prest on him to destroy -the slayer of their chief. Landenberg cursed his fate, that he should -fall so disgracefully by the arm of a dotard, and poured out his last -breath in execrations. The combat became general. The Friends of Liberty -were attacked by the Governor’s remaining attendants, who were now -better armed; but this opposition was not of much avail, since at a -given signal a second party of Helvetians, who were in waiting on the -outside of the Castle, hastened to support their confederates. - -The superiority of numbers being now on their side, the conquerors -proclaimed quarter in the name of Henric Melthal. The loss of their -chief had deprived the scanty band of his adherents of all their -courage: they were glad to sheathe their weapons, and the conquering -Helvetians took them under their protection, and conducted them -uninjured to the boundaries. The gallant men were unwilling to stain -their native soil with blood shed unnecessarily, and doubted not, that -such a barbarous measure would have induced the Almighty to withdraw his -blessing from their enterprise. They lost no time in taking measures for -maintaining themselves in the possession of Castle-Sarno. Towards -evening intelligence arrived, that Rassburg also had been attacked with -success, and during the three or four succeeding days similar tidings -were received from other parts of the country: Schwannau, Kussnach, -Zinguri (which was not yet finished) and many other places of -importance, had been wrested from the hands of Helvetia’s tyrants. Such -universal success testified, that the arm of the Protector of innocence -had fought in their cause; and they thought, the best means of showing -their gratitude for such powerful aid to him, who detests unnecessary -bloodshed, was to use their victory with mildness and moderation. They -had expelled their enemies, and reinstated themselves in their natural -rights: more they sought not, more they desired not; and it was this -laudable moderation, which, by preventing them from aiming to obtain -further advantages, enabled them to secure, what they had won already. - -Peace after so long an absence returned once more to these happy -vallies; and a firm fraternal union for offence and defence was -established, which I pray, that God may grant to last, as long as the -world exists. - -Has not the ignorant Nun suffered herself to be enticed out of her -proper sphere, while she described scenes of war and the efforts of -Liberty? She, a weak defenceless woman, a slave bound in lasting -fetters? Yet Heaven be thanked for it, those fetters are light: pious -submission enables me to bear them, and they will ere long be loosened -by the hand of Death. - -Count Donat’s widow lived in tranquil seclusion at Zurich in the society -of the Countess Urania; and their prayers were frequently offered up for -the success of the honest Helvetians. They rejoiced to hear of their -victories, of Amalberga’s rescue, and of her union with the Count of -Torrenburg. But Helen did not wish to be herself a spectatress of their -felicity; nor (when shortly after their marriage the happy pair visited -her to express their mutual gratitude) could she be prevailed upon to -pass more than one hour in their society; and many, many of the -succeeding days were for her days of anguish. Poor Helen was but a weak -mortal, no saint, no angel: and alas! to _forget_ is a task not so easy, -as some may think! - -Yet in recompence for her past sorrows Heaven had still reserved one -pleasure for her future life. Oh! Blessed Virgin, what a pleasure was -that! what a surprise! what an unexpected re-union!—But let me proceed -regularly. - -The good Domina of Zurich was dead; the Princess Euphemia had already -been appointed Abbess of Tull, and therefore could not accept the vacant -dignity. No persuasion could induce Urania, at her advanced age, to fill -so laborious a situation, and the lot now fell upon Count Donat’s widow. -She obeyed the general voice, and was well-pleased to have a means for -exerting benevolence in a more extended circle. She became (what I say -of her ought not to be counted to her as a merit, since she did but her -duty) she became the mother of the opprest; and the man, who intrusted -to her a daughter, a sister, or a mistress, knew, that she could be no -where safer than in her arms. This was universally known; and many a -knight, before he set out on some distant expedition, secured under her -protection those treasures, which he valued dearer than all others, -which the world contained. - -One day a knight requested an audience of her: as soon as she saw him, -it struck her, that his features were not altogether unknown to her. - -—“Sir Knight,” said she, “it appears to me, that we have met before.”— - -—“You say truly, holy mother,” answered he; “it was I, who by the Bishop -of Coira’s command took the Castle of Sargans by storm, and afterwards -conducted you to this Convent. Methinks, you placed but little -confidence in me on that occasion, though perhaps it would have been for -your advantage, had you shown more: but its true, you knew not my name; -knew not, that never had any one reason to repent the trust, which he -reposed in Herman of Werdenberg. I will not follow your example; I am -now preparing to reveal to you my dearest secrets, and solicit you to -become the guardian of my most precious treasure. Grief of heart some -time ago drove me from my native land: my uncle’s death necessitated my -return; and being once more in Germany, I suffered myself to be -persuaded to remain there: nay, under a borrowed name I consented to act -as the knight-protector of the new Bishop’s subjects, and to become the -assertor of his rights and privileges. - -“It was in this capacity, that I became acquainted with you, Lady, in -the Castle of Sargans: report, and mysterious circumstances respecting -your conduct, I confess, had not prejudiced me in your favour; and -perhaps I did not treat you with so much respect and attention, as (I am -now well convinced) was justly due to your merits. After escorting you -hither, I returned to Sargans, being commissioned to defend the Castle -against Landenberg and his associates, in the name of Count Donat’s -daughters; whom the Bishop had adopted as his wards, and whom he -publicly declared his intention of reinstating in their rights, as soon -as the place of their concealment could be ascertained. It seems, the -rebellious Landenberg thought, that this was the fit time for making -himself master of all Rhœtia, while the Ten Jurisdictions were torn to -pieces by the tumults and confusion, to which his artifices had given -rise; but report must have already informed you, how soon those vain -hopes were crushed by the noble efforts of the assertors of Liberty. - -“In order that I might not be quite idle during my undisturbed residence -at Sargans, the Bishop (who has no antipathy to gold) commissioned me to -enquire into the truth of an old tradition very current among the -people, that immense treasures lie buried in the foundation of that -antient fortress. Upon asking some questions, I was conducted to an old -and ruined well in a remote court, and assured that it contained wealth -inexhaustible. The Bishop on this report desired me to cause the well to -be cleared out; but its contents furnished nothing but venomous -reptiles, filth, and some human bones, the melancholy memorials of -former cruelties, whose commission Heaven no doubt had long since -punished. - -“Other places were afterwards pointed out to me as the repository of -this buried wealth; but no better success attended their examination. At -length I resolved to set my workmen to clear out that subterraneous -passage, the falling-in of whose roof had so nearly proved your -destruction. It seemed to me much more probable, that I should find here -that of which I was in search, than in those places which I had already -examined; but it was my full determination, in case of discovering the -supposed treasures, not to give them up to the Bishop, but to reserve -them for the heiress of Carlsheim and Sargans, who had lately been -rescued from Landenberg’s power, and was now Countess of Torrenburg. It -was however less my object to find wealth which I despised, than to -furnish my followers with a harmless occupation, and by restoring the -concealed passage (which in our turbulent times is absolutely necessary -in every fortress) to render a trifling service to posterity. The work -was difficult and tedious; however, I was just rejoicing in the -reflection, that a few days would suffice to finish it, when the Bishop -of Coira found it impossible to delay any longer with common decency the -restoring of Sargans to the Countess Amalberga and her husband. One -branch of the passage alone remained in ruins, and I would gladly have -completed my task; but Count Eginhart was already at the gates of -Sargans. I hastened to deliver up every thing, which had been committed -to my custody, and we renewed our former friendship; a friendship, which -in the earlier part of our lives had been most intimate. - -“It was my intention to request his permission to finish the repairs of -the subterraneous caverns: unluckily, as we sat conversing together, and -recalling the events of former days over our flowing goblets, he -mentioned the sister of his bride, who had once made upon my heart a -very forcible impression; but my passion was not strong enough to make -me consent to commit my honour to the keeping of a daughter of Count -Donat. The Count painted in glowing colours the happiness, which he -enjoyed with Amalberga; and he finally accused me of having treated the -Lady Emmeline unworthily, and of having driven her into the jaws of -perdition by my rigour and contempt. As her relations have always wrapt -in mystery the latter scenes of Emmeline’s life, I am even at this -moment ignorant, as to what is become of Her, who was once so dear to -me; nor could I understand, to what the Count alluded in the conclusion -of his speech. I could not, however, allow, that I had acted by her with -injustice, and asserted, with that warmth which is natural to me, that -no man of prudence and honour would have acted otherwise. Our -conversation grew bitter; and at length we parted in such anger, that it -was impossible for me to submit to asking of him as a favour, that I -might prosecute my subterraneous labours. - -“Perhaps you will be surprised at my being so anxious about such a -trifle, as the repairs of these vaults; I must therefore confess to you, -that the real motive of my wish to examine this passage thoroughly, was -nothing more than a dream; but that dream was in truth a very remarkable -one. - -“The first time that I broke a lance at a public tournament, it was my -fortune to obtain the prize, a ring apparently of considerable value. I -was pleased both with the jewel, and with the manner in which I obtained -it, and never failed to wear it on all solemn festivals; till a person -well skilled in precious stones convinced me, that the diamond was false -and the ring itself scarcely worth three golden shields[3]. Incensed at -having been so grossly imposed upon, I snatched it from my finger, and -threw it over the battlements: the circumstance of its having been the -reward of my address soon made me wish to recover it; but though my -squire was immediately dispatched, he returned without having been able -to find it. I had quite forgotten this ring and all its circumstances; -but on both the two nights preceding Torrenburg’s entry into the Castle -of Sargans, I dreamt, that in traversing the subterraneous passage I -found my lost ring, and that the false stone was changed into a diamond, -which illuminated the whole cavern with its radiance. - -Footnote 3: - - A coin so called, from its bearing a shield imprest upon it. - -“I cannot account for the strong impression, which this dream made upon -my fancy; yet (Heaven knows!) I set but little store upon the treasures -of this world, and were I possest of all the diamonds which the earth -contains, I should only employ them to adorn our Redeemer’s cross; that -cross, which it is my firm resolution to wear in future against the -Saracens, and other enemies of our holy religion. Yet in spite of this -contempt of wealth, and of the little faith which I put in omens, the -repetition of this dream struck my imagination so forcibly, that I could -not rest without ascertaining, whether the vaults did really contain the -ring, which I had so long lost. - -“My disagreement with Torrenburg had made it impossible for me to -satisfy my doubts by means of the Castle-entrance: but I thought it by -no means unlikely, that there might be some communication between the -passage and the ruined Abbey of Curwald, which was situated at no great -distance, and was just beginning to be rebuilt. - -“I was well acquainted with Father John; a worthy man, who had lately -been appointed the Superior of those few Monks, who had escaped from -Count Donat’s barbarity. He readily acceded to my request, and I -immediately began my work. - -“For several days the ruins were examined without success: yet the -assurance of one of the elder Monks, that he remembered having heard -(but merely as a tradition) that a private communication had formerly -existed between the Convent and Sargans, made me unwilling to give up -the pursuit. It was frequently my custom after dismissing my labourers -(wearied with their fruitless endeavours to discover that, which they -were firmly persuaded had no existence) to wander by myself, and mark -the melancholy contrast made by the slowly-rising walls of the new -building, with the ruins of the old one which had not yet been removed. -The vaults beneath the Convent being generally the scene of our -enquiries, as affording us the best chance for finding the so much -wished-for passage, I frequently loitered here alone, after my workmen -had left me for the evening, A fixed melancholy had taken possession of -my soul: in truth, it could not well be otherwise, surrounded as I was -on all sides by memorials of mortality, and the marks of celestial -judgments! - -—“Where,” said I often to myself, “where are now the voluptuous -pleasures of the Monks of Curwald? where the pride and power of the -tyrants of Carlsheim and Sargans? The grave has swallowed them all; -nothing remains of them, but the memory of their crimes and the -detestation of posterity!—Herman, still preserve in your heart unshaken -the love of virtue, and not less the hatred of vice: be at once the -terror of the profligate and the friend of the innocent and the -helpless. Bring equally before the world’s eye the rights of the opprest -and the crimes of the oppressor, and unite in one person the protecting -and the avenging angel.”— - -“These ideas prest themselves upon my mind with more than ordinary -force, as I sat one evening in one of the Convent-vaults upon a heap of -stones. It was in the vault nearest to those of Sargans; and despairing -of finding the old secret communication, I had at length resolved to -employ my workmen in digging out a new one. They had already commenced -their labours, and were retired after making no inconsiderable progress. -The hour was late; darkness had closed round me, but an iron lamp was -fixed against the wall and guided my steps, as I slowly traversed to and -fro this abode of religious melancholy. The scene was congenial to the -state of my feelings; I consecrated it to secret sorrow; and here it was -that I offered up my prayers for the future, here it was that I poured -forth my tears, while dwelling upon the past. Yes, holy Mother, my -_tears_! The stern and haughty Herman of Werdenberg has wept frequently; -has wept, when if any eye had witnessed the drops, his cheek would have -blushed with shame at the unworthy cause of his sorrow; to _you_ alone, -to the ear of indulgent pity, he scruples not to disclose the secret of -his weakness. - -“Lady, my tears streamed for having formed an early attachment for one, -who deserved not my affection. I once adored Emmeline of Sargans; but I -tore her from my heart, convinced that it was impossible for _her_ to be -virtuous, who had been educated in the very lap of vice. Yet Amalberga, -Emmeline’s sister, and who had been educated with her, was modest, pure, -and irreproachable; then why not Emmeline? What had since happened to -that unfortunate was unknown to me; and my disagreement with her -brother-in-law prevented my obtaining that information from him, which I -was now most anxious to obtain; for one of his expressions had cut me to -the very soul, and I strove in vain to banish it from my memory. He told -me, “that my rigour had driven Emmeline into the jaws of perdition;” and -while his words lay heavy upon my heart, I could not but own, that it -was possible for his accusation to be well-founded. An union with an -honest man, such as Herman of Werdenberg boasts himself to be, would -have been the best and most certain means of rescuing her from the power -of her licentious father and the contagion of his example. Yet what -could I do? Say, that I was mistaken in my judgment of Emmeline; still -was it incumbent on me to run so great a risque to preserve her, as to -entrust the care of my honour to one, who I feared would prove a wanton? - -“But at all events, these considerations came too late. Nothing was now -left for me but to banish recollections which, (Heaven only knows, why) -intruded themselves upon me so forcibly, and which certainly were the -most absurd and fruitless, with which I could have employed my mind. Yet -still they _did_ employ it in spite of all my efforts, as I sat with my -eyes sometimes fixed on the dark vaults which frowned above me, -sometimes on the glimmerings of the distant lamp, without being -conscious what it was, at which I was gazing. At length incensed at my -own folly I started from my seat, and was quitting the vault abruptly, -when a faint murmur struck my hearing. - -“I stopped. It was not the first time, that I had heard something like a -groan, while traversing these vaults; but I had always supposed the -noise to be occasioned by the wind, or else to be the echo of my own -heart-drawn sighs. But now it was not only more loud and more distinct, -but I almost fancied, that it was followed by sounds resembling words -spoken by one in agony. - -“I hastened back to the place, which I had just quitted. I shouted, to -observe whether an echo would answer me, but all was silent.—I removed -to a distance; I came back again; I placed my head against the wall of -the cavern; I knelt, and laid my ear to the ground; I heard the noise -again. I endeavoured to trace it; still it continued, sometimes louder, -sometimes weaker; till at length it conducted me to a small iron grating -inserted in the ground, and from whence the wind, which blew upon me, -seemed to be more heavy and chilling, than that which I breathed in the -vaults above. - -“And through this opening did a voice now reach me, whose melancholy -tones seemed those of a female! It sounded so audibly, that all my -doubts vanished at once, and all my sensations resolved themselves into -the single eager enquiry—‘By what means I could assist the sufferer?’— - -—“Are you then come at last?” answered the voice; “but speak louder, for -I cannot understand what you say!—My senses are so confused ... and my -brain seems to whirl round and round so rapidly!”— - -“I repeated my enquiries, but with no better effect.” - -—“I hear the sound of your voice, but not your words,” answered the -captive; “and weakness prevents my dragging myself nearer to the -grate—Do you bring me food?—Alas! it is so long since you last visited -me!—I was afraid, that you had died suddenly—Afraid, did I say?—Oh! -Heaven, who would have suspected, that I should ever have dreaded -Luprian’s death!”— - -“These words were pronounced slowly, and in broken sentences. I now -stretched my voice to its utmost extent, and dwelt with peculiar -emphasis on the words “Help” and “Liberty.” - -—“Liberty?” she repeated; “no, Luprian; at your price it would be too -dearly purchased. Urge me no more to be the partner of your flight: -could I have ever stooped to disgrace, I need not have languished so -long in this dreary dungeon. If I have no choice left but death or -infamy, I prefer the former; leave me, and let me die!—And yet.... Oh! -God in Heaven! To part with even the most miserable existence is so -bitter.... Oh! it is still so bitter!” - -“I saw, that it would be vain for me to labour any more at making myself -understood; and the faint tone, in which these last words were uttered, -alarmed me. Yet I spoke once again, but no answer was returned; I -doubted not, that the unfortunate had fainted. - -“How I might effect her delivery with the utmost celerity, I knew not; -yet in my anguish and uncertainty I accidentally struck upon that, which -was most prudent: I hastened to the small temporary building inhabited -by Abbot John and his Monks; I related in a few words what had happened, -and requested their advice. - -“The Fraternity one and all hastened with me to the vault, every one -bearing a mattock, a pick-axe, or some such instrument. They were holy -benevolent men, resembling the original founders of their Order, and had -escaped as it were by a miracle from the flames, in which their guilty -brethren had perished. They were eager to redeem by their own conduct -the slur, which the crimes of others had brought upon their Convent, and -were as greedy of good actions, as most other Monks are of rich legacies -and well-stored cellars. - -“We were now near the vault, and already the beams of the distant lamp -struck our eyes; but on our entrance, those among us who were -best-sighted were aware, that the vault was not so totally unoccupied, -as I had left it. By the glimmerings of a small lanthorn a tall dark -figure was descried, kneeling on the before-mentioned grating. I sprang -forward. The stranger heard my steps, started from the ground, and -rushed by me so suddenly, that I attempted to stop him in vain. I called -to the approaching Monks not to let him pass; but before they could -reach him, his foot stumbled, and he fell prostrate on the ground. - -“Totally engrossed by their impatience to rescue the prisoner, my -companions were hastening forwards without paying any attention to the -stranger; but a thought, which passed through my mind like a flash of -light, made me conceive, how important it was to examine him. I -flattered myself, that I should discover in him that same Luprian, whom -the unfortunate had mentioned, and who in all probability was her -gaoler. Should my conjecture prove correct, I considered this meeting as -a great step towards her deliverance: I therefore grasped him firmly by -the arm, and dragged him towards the lamp, in order that I might examine -my prize. - -“I beheld a miserable creature, enveloped in the ragged habit of a monk, -and whose bloodless cheeks, sunk eyes, and emaciated limbs would have -excited my deepest compassion, had I not had good cause to harbour -suspicions, that compassion was a sentiment, of which he was but little -deserving. - -—“Art thou Luprian?” said I in a thundering voice. - -“He sank at my feet, and stammered out an avowal. - -—“Wretch!” I continued; “what motive could induce thee to confine an -unfortunate woman in yonder subterraneous dungeon?”— - -“He was silent for a few moments; then suddenly starting from the -ground—“You know that she _is_ confined there,” said he with a furious -look, “and knowing that, you know enough to destroy me! Ask me no more -questions; I will answer none!”— - -“He threw himself sullenly upon the heap of ruins, and maintained an -obstinate silence. Unwilling to own that I knew no more than his name, I -first endeavoured to terrify him into a disclosure of this mystery; and -finding my threats produce no effect, I had recourse to persuasion, -painting in as strong colours as possible the cruelty of suffering the -unfortunate to remain longer in her prison, and exhorting him to atone -in some degree for his faults towards his captive, by being himself the -instrument to effect her release. In the mean while my companions had -fallen to work with their spades and mattocks; but large pieces of stone -frequently fell into the dungeon below; and the cries of the sufferer, -who dreaded being crushed beneath their weight, convinced them, how -dangerous was this mode of procuring her deliverance, and finally -compelled them to desist from the attempt. - -“What was now to be done? While we agitated this question, Luprian stood -with his arms folded, silent and thoughtful, as if He too had been -resolving some difficult point; at length he threw himself on his knees -before us; and on condition that his life and liberty should be secured -to him, he made a proposal, which he swore to fulfil conscientiously. - -—“No one but myself,” said he, “can enable you to set that captive free, -and it is in my power to show you such means as are most sure and -speedy. You see how rotten is this vault, and you may judge from the -faint murmur of her complaints, how deep her dungeon is sunk into the -ground. It will at any rate be long, ere you can force your way to her; -and from her extreme weakness it is unlikely, that she should live till -your arrival, even should she escape the imminent danger of having her -brains dashed out by some fragment of the crumbling roof. But only speak -one word to assure me of life and forgiveness, and I will immediately -furnish you with explanations, which (should you refuse my offer) this -dagger shall enable me to take with me to the grave.”— - -“The naked steel, which Luprian now pointed towards his bosom, inspired -us with no alarm. It would have been easy to wrest the weapon from his -grasp; but our impatience to assist the unfortunate captive compelled us -to give the required promise. Her complaints had now again ceased to be -audible; and we felt, that not a moment was to be lost, if we meant to -find her still in existence. - -“As soon as we had solemnly engaged not to attempt either his life or -freedom, Luprian resigned his dagger to one of the Monks, and informed -us, that in order to accomplish our object it would be necessary to quit -the vault, and seek a different entrance to the lady’s dungeon, which -was well known to him. Accordingly we followed him for some time, till -we arrived at a remote part of the Convent ruins. - -—“Here,” said he, stopping before a ruined wall, from which he removed a -few loose stones, and showed us a narrow flight of stairs; “here you -must descend, and these steps will conduct you to the place, of which -you are in search. Now then I have performed my promise, and require the -performance of yours: permit me to retire.”— - -“I hastily seized a torch from one of the Monks, and was hastening down -the staircase, without giving myself a moment’s reflection: but the more -prudent Abbot detained me, gave the torch to Luprian, and commanded him -to finish the work which he had begun, before he claimed the reward of -his services. - -“Nothing was left for him but to obey. He guided us down about fifty -steps, and after reaching the foot of the stairs we had a subterraneous -passage to traverse of the same length with that, which had led us from -the grating to the ruined wall. It was terminated by an iron door -strongly fastened on the outside, and which had we not detained Luprian, -we should have found no little difficulty, and lost no little time, in -opening. As I made this observation, I cast upon him an accusing glance; -but the door unclosing left me no time to express in words my -indignation at this proof of his intended treachery. We rushed eagerly -into the dungeon, and found it to be a large vaulted cell, of which -darkness had taken such complete possession, that the beams of our -torches were insufficient to dissipate the gloom, and could only shed a -faint glimmering around us. Its only recommendations were its loftiness -and space. By holding our lights on high, we could discern (but with -difficulty) the iron grating inserted in the roof, through which the -complaints of the prisoner had so seasonably reached me. Exactly beneath -it stood a loaf and a flask of wine, which Luprian had just let down -into the dungeon; and in a corner of it stretched on a miserable pallet -the object of our search lay fainting, as indeed we had suspected from -her silence. With the assistance of one of the younger Monks I raised -her from the ground, and bore her to the upper air, which we considered -as the most likely means of bringing her to herself. - -“This hope however proved vain. Animation was lost too completely to be -so easily recalled. Above an hour had elapsed since our conveying her to -the Abbot’s dwelling (where no means were neglected that could restore -animation) before we had the least reason to flatter ourselves with -hopes of her recovery. At length with inexpressible delight we saw her -half unclose her eyes; but she instantly shut them again on account of -the pain caused in them by the light, to which they were now quite -unaccustomed. - -“We gave her every possible assistance, and after some time she gained -strength and recollection enough to enable her to comprehend the -favourable change, which had taken place in her situation. Tears of joy, -and her clasped hands raised in gratitude to Heaven, were her only -answer. She strove to thank us for the service which we had rendered -her; but emotion choaked her utterance, and to express her sense of our -kindness by looks was not in her power, since the beams of the sun (who -was now risen) were so painful to her eyes, that she had been obliged to -cover her face with a thick veil to save herself from relapsing into -insensibility. - -“We therefore carefully excluded day-light from her chamber, and left -her to repose. While she slept, we resolved to take the opportunity of -making Luprian explain a business, which we conceived to be of some -importance, and respecting which our curiosity was raised to the highest -pitch by hearing some of the Monks assert their persuasion, that -Luprian’s features were not unknown to them. The last Abbot of Curwald, -who was supposed to have perished in the conflagration, had borne that -name, and in spite of his pale countenance and meagre form they verily -believed my prisoner to be no other. We were now all impatience to -ascertain this point; but we found, that in order to effect our object -we ought to have been more upon our guard. Occupied by the melancholy -situation of the lady, which excited universal interest and compassion, -not one of us had paid the least attention to her gaoler: now that we -recollected him, he was not to be found. It appeared probable, that he -had forsaken us immediately upon our entrance into the subterraneous -dungeon, since no one remembered to have seen him since that time, nor -indeed to have bestowed a thought upon him. We had now nothing left for -it but to rail at our inattention, and to lay the blame upon each other. -However, we did not think our loss of any material consequence, since we -doubted not the lady’s ability to clear up the mystery; and at all -events the captive was at liberty, and we had effected a good deed. - -“She awoke, greatly strengthened by her refreshing slumber: her first -request was to be removed from the society of men, and committed to the -charge of persons of her own sex. We had already agreed with a -respectable widow in one of the neighbouring villages, that the invalid -should be taken to her house, as soon as she was able to bear the -removal. The good woman soon made her appearance, and the stranger’s -impatience to quit the Monastery was so extreme, that we judged her -likely to suffer less detriment from the journey than from delay. The -distance was not great; she was placed in an easy litter; and her nurse -took such good care of her both during her removal and afterwards, that -she was quickly pronounced out of all danger. Her eyes again became -accustomed to day-light; her hearing was no longer hurt by the loudness -of human voices, and she could speak without difficulty: yet has she -never thought proper to disclose her name either to myself, or to the -Abbot who visited her daily.—But let it still remain concealed; there is -at least _one_ title, which after hearing the brief relation of her -sufferings I know well to be her proper right; the title of the purest -and most heroic of virtuous martyrs, a name which deserves to be -engraved on marble, and employed to add sanctity to altars! - -“You are surprised, holy Lady, to hear the cold and serious Herman speak -with such enthusiasm; but let it not injure me in your opinion. The -rescued prisoner perhaps was once beautiful, but now she is so no -longer. Sorrow and confinement have robbed her person of every charm, -which could inspire the voluptuary’s heart with passion: yet were I ever -to love again, my soul should be devoted to the perfection of female -virtue, not of female loveliness. Emmeline, the enchanting Emmeline, -with all her train of charms and graces, perhaps, I may in time cease to -remember; but never, oh! never shall I forget the form of my pale -emaciated captive, sinking into the grave the victim of her principles; -never while he has breath, shall that interesting countenance fade from -the recollection of Herman of Werdenberg! - -“But I have wandered widely from the object of this long discourse; I -came hither to make a request, to which all that I have said is but an -introduction: the health of this noble persecuted creature, of my -friend, my sister, my preserved one, is now almost re-established. She -begins to consider, what it will hereafter be most expedient for her to -do; and as she says, that she has no relation in the world to whom she -dares confide her interests, she has condescended to ask my advice -respecting her future proceedings. We both agreed, that a convent is the -most proper retreat for her in her present circumstances; and on my -mentioning to her that, which is under your direction, holy Mother, she -received the proposal with rapture. - -—“Oh! surely,” she exclaimed, “my mind cannot yet be quite itself again, -or I could not have hesitated a moment respecting my choice.—Helen of -Homburg!—the Convent of Zurich!—Heavenly powers, how could I have -forgotten those dear dear names so long?”— - -“She then enquired eagerly, whether Urania Venosta still lived within -these walls; and when I answered in the affirmative, she discovered such -strong emotion, as her gentle despondent manners had little led me to -expect her being capable of feeling. She clasped her hands in ecstacy; a -shower of tears rolled down her pale cheeks, while she sank on her -knees, and returned thanks to Heaven; she then entreated me to leave her -without delay, and prepare a reception for her in your Convent. I would -willingly have first ascertained, whether she was already known to you; -but her impatience would not admit of my postponing my journey for an -instant, and I was compelled to depart unsatisfied. - -“Now then may I hope, that my request will not be rejected? Shall I be -authorised to assure my friend of a welcome reception within these -walls? Speak but one gracious word, and a few hours will be sufficient -to bring her to your feet. Conducted by the good Abbot she has followed -my steps hither, and I need only your permission to deliver her up to -your protection,”— - -It is superfluous to say, that Herman’s request was granted with -readiness; but how great was the emotion, which his narrative had -excited in his auditress, how ardent her impatience for the arrival of -the unhappy lady! She was unable to restrain her tears, and a thousand -joyful exclamations escaped her lips, whose import was unintelligible to -Herman. - -—“Am I right,” said he, “in supposing, that my friend is not unknown to -you?”— - -—“Heaven grant, that it may prove so,” answered the Abbess, while she -hastily wiped away her tears. “But as yet you have allowed me so little -insight into her history, that I scarcely dare give credit to my hopes. -Oh! furnish me with more light; tell me every thing that you know about -her; and prevent my nourishing the sweet but deceitful dreams, which now -occupy my fancy. Alas! alas! it is impossible that they should be -verified; in pity then destroy them at once, before these fond hopes -have time to take such root in my heart, that to tear them out again -would almost break it.”— - -—“All that I know respecting this stranger,” answered Herman, “is, that -she was immured by her friends in the Convent of St. Roswitha several -months before the fatal conflagration. It was not long, before she -became acquainted with the manners, which prevailed in this polluted -Sanctuary. Luprian, the unworthy Abbot of Curwald, who even under the -protecting roof of her father had insulted her by a declaration of his -passion, renewed his persecution with increased ardour in a place, which -was completely under his dominion. Much time was not suffered to elapse, -before her resistance was punished by confinement in the cell, whence I -released her: yet she was occasionally compelled to return to the -Convent, in order that her virtue might be assailed by art, flattery, -and every power of the most refined seduction, as well as by severity -and persecution. - -“The day preceding the dreadful night, in which these dwellings of sin -were purified by fire, had witnessed such a scene of temptation, as -Luprian thought could not possibly fail of success. But it was defeated -in a manner so disgraceful for the enemies of innocence, that spite and -fury took the place of seduction and love. The heroine was compelled to -endure a variety of the most cruel insults and injuries, and then was -dragged back to her dungeon so exhausted with her sufferings, that she -could scarcely be called alive. - -“To her return to this prison was she indebted for existence. It was -sunk so deep within the earth and so remote from the inhabited parts of -the Convent, that she only had a slight suspicion from different -circumstances, that something unusual was passing above her head. She -was confirmed in this idea by several days elapsing without any -nourishment being brought to her. She was reduced to the greatest -extremity; and hunger would soon have put a period to her sufferings, -when the prison-door was unlocked, and the Abbot entered. A cordial of -great power, which he gave her, restored her strength sufficiently to -enable her at length to comprehend the object of his visit. He first -informed her of the events which had lately taken place, and then -proceeded to propose to her the terms, on which she might obtain her -liberty. - -—“It is universally believed,” said he, “that I, as well as the rest of -my Order, have fallen a prey to the flames; I encourage this opinion, -since it enables me with security to quit a profession, for which I am -ill calculated, and which I have always held in detestation. I -acknowledge it, my passion for you has hitherto been such, as you ought -not to have complied with; but I now come to declare sentiments so pure, -that you may safely listen to them without doing the least injury to -your honour. I have rescued the Abbey-treasure from the ruins; I have -also secured such considerable funds in other countries, as will enable -me to support the establishment of a temporal prince in any place which -you may prefer, provided it be one where my person is not known. Nothing -is wanting to complete my happiness, except the possession of your hand, -and I trust, you will not be so blind to your own advantage, as to -reject my honourable suit. But one choice is allowed you; either you -must perish in this dungeon, whose existence is now a secret to every -human being except myself; or else you must take a solemn oath upon the -cross to share my flight from Germany, and become my wife, as soon as we -are safe in some foreign climate. There is no time for deliberation; the -success of my plans depends upon their speedy execution, and you must -instantly and at once pronounce the sentence, which decides both _your_ -fate and my own.—I wait your answer.”— - -“That answer was such, as might have been expected from one, by whom the -licentious Luprian was held in as much abhorrence, as virtue was held -dear and idolized. She asserted the indissoluble nature of his vows to -religion, and repaid his tender speeches with such scorn, that he left -her with a threat never to repeat his offer, but to suffer her to perish -of hunger without compassion or remorse. But the captive was too dear to -him to permit his keeping that resolution. He tormented her with -frequent visits, and desisted not from his fruitless endeavours to -reconcile her to his plans; though to her great satisfaction he was -latterly compelled to abstain from entering her dungeon. A suspicion -existed, that considerable treasures were buried among the ruins of the -Monastery; it was therefore judged prudent to place sentinels about -them, and thus was the execrable Monk debarred all intercourse with his -prisoner, except such as could be carried on by favour of the iron -grating. - -“Luprian now found it absolutely necessary for him to visit Italy, where -he had deposited the chief part of his wealth. He entrusted the care of -the lady to his sole Confident. As his absence was protracted longer -than he had himself expected, she enjoyed some respite from his infamous -addresses, and was not without hopes, that her entreaties and sufferings -would at last induce his representative to take some steps towards -effecting her deliverance. Those hopes however were continually -disappointed. His heart was not more flexible than his associate’s; he -remained immutably faithful to the trust reposed in him; and in answer -to her enquiries respecting the transactions of the regions above her, -he gave her such accounts of the successes of her enemies and of the -destruction of all those who were dear to her, as almost extinguished -her anxiety to escape from her dungeon. She saw, that nothing but sorrow -would welcome her return to liberty, and the natural love of life -struggled but faintly against the certainty of present sufferings, and -the apprehension of those, which were still to come. - -“Day after day crept away, during which the dreadful uniformity of her -unhappy situation was uninterrupted, except by moments of utter despair, -whose power frequently was on the point of subduing the poor prisoner; -or else by those gleams of ungrounded hope, with which Providence -strengthens and comforts those whom he means finally to preserve, in -order that they may not quite sink beneath the burthen of their -calamities. Luprian still returned not: the lady’s complaints seemed -gradually to make their impression on the mind of his deputy. He -occasionally suffered hints to escape him, that it would not be -impossible to obtain his consent to her liberty: and at length at her -earnest request he was induced to declare, that he was ready that -instant to put an end to her sufferings, provided she would consent to -share with him as his wife the enjoyment of that wealth, which the Abbot -had placed in his custody. - -“Here then her hopes again were disappointed. Vexation added bitterness -to the manner, in which she indignantly rejected his infamous proposal: -and the wretch, exasperated by her cutting expressions, swore, that he -would put his plan in execution without her that very day, and would -leave her to her fate. He kept his oath; and the captive must have -perished, had not the Abbot fortunately returned at this identical -moment. His expedition had been attended with nothing but -disappointment. The wealth, which he had vested in foreign hands, had -disappeared from a variety of causes, some through mischance, more -through treachery; and he now only returned to find his associate fled, -his treasure plundered, and his mistress as inflexible as ever. -Vexation, poverty, and fatigue threw him on the bed of sickness. Many -days frequently past, during which the captive was totally neglected; -when at length her gaoler appeared, it was only to throw to her a loaf -of that bread, of which he now could with difficulty procure a -sufficiency for his own sustenance, and with every time to assure her, -that this nourishment was the last, which she would ever receive from -his hands. He spoke no longer of flight, or indeed of his passion for -her; in truth, the former now seemed to be almost impracticable, for the -rebuilding of the Monastery was begun; people were constantly employed -in the neighbourhood of the dungeon’s entrance; and the outlets from the -ruins were watched with more vigilance than ever. The sufferer -frequently entreated him to promise, that he would at least reveal to -some one the place of her confinement before his death; since in order -to increase her terrors he never mist an opportunity of assuring her, -that he had not many days to exist. But in vain did she represent to -him, that when he should be in another world, her sufferings in this -could by no means be to him of any advantage: he was deaf to her -supplications. Bitter and contemptuous irony was his only answer; and it -seemed as if he solely enabled her to support life, in order that he -might still have a human being in his power to torment. - -“It was about this time, that the vaults above her prison became an -object of examination: they were completely clogged up with rubbish, -except one narrow passage conducting to the grate. She had often -determined on ending her sufferings by a voluntary death, and for -several days persisted in refusing sustenance; but now that she -frequently heard a noise above her head, and even once or twice caught -the gleam of distant torches through the iron opening, her fearful -resolutions were laid aside, and their place occupied by the hope, that -accident perhaps might effect her deliverance. - -“These hopes she concealed most sedulously from her tyrant; and so often -had her sweetest dreams disappointed her, that despair still was able at -times to regain his former influence over her mind. Yet she was now so -accustomed to mark by some piteous sound, that there was a suffering -creature buried in these caverns who implored assistance, that she -continued her groans and cries, even when she had long given up the -expectation of their reaching the ear of compassion. In truth, the -workmen, during the intervals of their labours, had caught the faint -murmurs of her complaints; but they put no other interpretations upon -the sound, than such as were suggested by terror and superstition. -Fortunately our enterprise necessarily brought us every day nearer the -place of her seclusion; till at length some good Angel made me attentive -to the cry of sorrow, and guided me to the performance of an action, -which I shall never cease to consider as the most blessed and fortunate -event of my whole life.”— - -Herman of Werdenberg here ended his long narrative; the emotions which -it had produced in Helen were so violent, that every similitude would -fall short of expressing their strength. - -—“Emmeline!” said she in that internal voice, which is only audible to -the soul, “thou liv’st then, and I shall once more clasp to my bosom the -poor forlorn orphan, the persecuted dove, the pious martyr of chastity -and religion!—And Herman is your deliverer! that very Herman of -Werdenberg, who once was unjust to your merits, and who now (if I may -judge by every possible evidence) adores you with the warmest, purest -affection, ever kindled in the bosom of a mortal! Oh! Helen, Helen, what -unexpected joy! You will see two of the best of human beings made happy -after long and cruel sufferings, and will yourself assist in forwarding -their happiness! My own plans of worldly bliss have all been ruined; in -reward for my not murmuring at their destruction, grant me, ye powers of -mercy, that wisdom and that foresight, which may enable me to establish -the felicity of my friend on the firmest foundations and with the least -delay.”— - -Herman was at a loss to comprehend the long silence of the Abbess, and -the deep meditation, into which his narrative seemed to have plunged -her. At length she recollected herself, and at her request he retired in -search of the stranger, Helen having previously stipulated that he -should not be present at their meeting. She was not certain, that in the -first moments of emotion she should be sufficiently mistress of herself -to conceal Emmeline’s name; and from what he had said, she collected, -that it was not her friend’s intention at present to discover herself to -her deliverer. - -A few hours elapsed, before Emmeline appeared leaning on the good Abbot: -Helen now was no longer surprised, that in her present situation she had -not been recognized by her former lover. She was sadly, sadly changed. -It was necessary to have been quite as lovely as Emmeline, in order not -to have lost every charm of person during the long and cruel period of -her captivity; it was necessary to have possest as wonderful a strength -of mind as hers, in order to escape with her senses unimpaired from the -fearful shipwreck of all that was then most dear to her. Ah! Herman, -Herman! that youthful vivacity, which appeared to you so high a crime, -and for which you so unjustly blamed the innocent girl, was now fled for -ever; its place was supplied by a mild and serious look of resignation, -whose melancholy it’s true was sometimes illumined by a benevolent -smile; but the smile was but momentary, and its lustre soon faded away. -Yet thus it was, that you wished her to be; and thus must Emmeline needs -appear to you a thousand times more pleasing, than while she yet shone -with all the brilliant powers of unfaded youth, vivacity, and beauty. -Beautiful in truth was Emmeline no more; but Emmeline was still -interesting beyond expression. A slight frail nymph-like form, so light -that it seemed as if air could have sustained her; a face, robbed of its -roseate colour, but so dazzling fair, that she resembled a marble -statue; a countenance, from which a painter might have formed a portrait -of Christian Humility, and to which the consciousness of heroic -self-denial and of long abstraction from all earthly hopes and -pleasures, had given a saint-like expression that was almost -supernatural; such now was the once brilliant Emmeline of Sargans! - -But Helen did not make these observations during the first moments of -their meeting; she could attend to nothing but the joy of once more -embracing her persecuted friend, whom she prest to her bosom with -pleasure too great for utterance. Emmeline was more composed; it was -long since she had seen Helen, who had never been to her more than a -beloved play-fellow, whom she sometimes remembered with a wish to meet -again, and sometimes quite forgot in contemplation of nearer interests -and impending dangers: but much more was she to Helen. The sufferings of -amiable persons, with whom we have ever had even the slightest -acquaintance, give them an extraordinary value in our eyes; and they -inspire us with an affection for them which rises to the highest pitch, -if we feel that it is at all in our power to show them kindness, and to -repair in some degree the past injustice of their fate. - -What happened at this interview between the re-united friends; with what -rapture Emmeline was received by the infirm Urania, whose life was now -drawing towards its close; the recapitulation of what had past during -their separation, and the plans which they arranged for the future; all -this I shall pass over in silence, and shall only relate so much of the -latter, as may be absolutely necessary. Time and grief had made -alterations in Herman’s appearance scarcely less surprising than in -Emmeline’s. His assumed name; his gentle manners softened by melancholy -recollections and by compassion for the invalid, so different from the -sternness and contempt with which he had ever treated her at the -Bishop’s court; the dimness of her still-enfeebled sight; the darkened -chamber, whose half-light only afforded her an indistinct view of her -deliverer, when he visited her; these circumstances had contributed to -conceal Herman from her knowledge, and she only entertained a suspicion, -that the sound of his voice was not totally unknown to her. But she -remarked his growing affection; and being unwilling to encourage it, she -abstained from making those enquiries, which might perhaps have -satisfied her curiosity, but which also might have led him to believe, -that she was interested respecting him. - -She was perfectly ignorant of all, that had passed during her captivity. -She had given her gaoler’s assertions implicit credit, and firmly -believed, that the few persons whom she loved were numbered among the -dead.—With what joy did she hear from Helen’s lips the assurance, that -Amalberga was alive and happy, and that she herself was indebted for her -release to no other than Herman of Werdenberg!—In truth, she had -hitherto been resolved to discourage the attachment of this unknown -warrior; but this resolution only lasted, till she discovered his real -name. Present gratitude and former affection now gave him a double -interest in her heart: yet did it not so totally overpower all other -feelings, as to determine her to forget entirely the injustice of his -former conduct. She was resolved to put him to a severe trial; she was -besides not quite certain, that his ancient prejudices might not still -have some influence over him; but a few conversations with the Knight -were sufficient to efface every suspicion on this subject. He frequently -visited his unknown mistress at the Convent-grate, where (the better to -elude a discovery) she never appeared without a veil: with every visit -his attachment evidently increased in strength; yet even in her presence -he frequently bestowed a sigh upon the rejected Emmeline, whom he never -mentioned but in terms of interest and compassion. This conduct was not -without its advantage, and when he was soon after compelled to fulfill -his vow of assisting in the crusade against the infidel Albigese, he did -not depart without hopes of being welcome at his return. - -During his absence the meeting took place between Emmeline and her -beloved sister. Helen had at length gained such perfect mastery over her -feelings, as to endure without agony the presence of Torrenburg and the -happy Amalberga; and she and Urania were the delighted witnesses of a -scene, which appeared rather calculated for the regions of light beyond -the grave, than for the habitation of wretched mortality. Amalberga, -clasped in the arms of that sister, whom she had so long numbered with -the dead; Torrenburg, Urania, and Helen, the spectators of and the -partners in their joy; and then the relation of Emmeline’s cruel -sufferings; and then the description of Amalberga’s unclouded happiness; -and then the brilliant prospects for the future which displayed -themselves to both, and which for _this_ time were no illusions.... No, -I will not trust my feeble pen with the description! - -The report soon circulated through the country, that the lost daughter -of Count Donat was still in existence. The sisters shared the -inheritance amicably, like two lovers dividing some scarce and delicious -fruit, each anxious that the other should receive a full proportion. -From every quarter of the free and happy Helvetia thronged the ancient -friends of the family of Sargans to congratulate the co-heiresses. At -length came also Herman of Werdenberg in quest of his unknown mistress, -whom he understood to be resident at Sargans; he returned from his -expedition, crowned with glory, and rewarded by the Pope with absolution -from his sins; a favour, of which the pious warrior stood but little in -need. Count Torrenburg proffered him the hand of his sister, of the rich -heiress of Sargans, of her whose beauty had formerly fascinated his -eyes; but his heart was now possest by the poor and friendless stranger, -and the hand of the rich heiress was respectfully declined. Indignation -at this refusal was the reason assigned by Amalberga for the -non-appearance of her sister; the stranger however was not equally -invisible, though her veil was not yet laid aside; and her consent to -become his bride soon repaid him for his constancy. It was not till the -espousals had taken place, that she revealed to him her real name, which -Herman now grown wiser heard without repugnance; for his early -prejudices had at length lost their influence in his bosom, and -Emmeline’s past sufferings left him no doubt respecting the purity of -her future conduct. He believed, that he had plighted his faith to a -needy friendless orphan; and the orphan in giving him her hand made him -the powerful Lord of Upper-Carlsheim, of Ortenstein, and of many other -fruitful territories. Happy were their days; happy was she through him, -and he through her! He had found once more the long-lost jewel, of whose -value he was so long unconscious; he had found the attachments of his -early youth and of his maturer manhood, the choice both of his heart and -of his head, and had found them all united in the person of his adored -Emmeline! - -And Helen was the spectatress of their felicity, nay is so still at the -moment that I trace these lines! Dear as they were to her, so dear to -her are still the sisters and their worthy husbands!—Lo! how in this -world every thing passes away; God be thanked for it, even our passions -pass away, as well as the rest. Tranquil age succeeds the impetuosity -and hurry of youth; the summer, whose every day was disturbed by -tempests, is replaced by the mild and mellow autumn.—Much as it had -suffered, bitter as had been its disappointments, cruel as had been its -sacrifices, even the heart of Helen at length was at rest. - -All my friends still flourish; all who are dear to me still live, even -the venerable Urania. My native land smiles all around in blessed peace; -not one of those, who are near to my heart, has as yet been obliged to -pay with his blood the price of precious Freedom! Guilt begins to be a -stranger among our citizens; the dwellings of luxury and indolence are -converted into sanctuaries of virtue and religion. The Monastery of -Curwald has risen from its ashes with increased lustre; no Luprian, no -Guiderius now rules there over proud voluptuous Monks; no sisters of -Love[4] now inhabit the cells of the neighbouring Convent. The good -Abbot John has admitted into his fraternity none but such men, as look -on vice with no less detestation than himself; and their holy conduct -has completely removed the stigma, which the remembrance of their -abandoned predecessors had fixed upon the whole brotherhood of -Cloister-Curwald. - -Footnote 4: - - Sorores Agapetæ. - -In the subterraneous vaults of Sargans has Herman lately raised a -splendid monument sacred to the sufferings of his wife. Thirty silver -lamps blaze before it; an easy and unguarded entrance admits every one, -who chooses to approach it; and there does many a pilgrim often loiter -to hear with pious admiration the history of a still living saint. - -Amalberga was desirous of opening the communication between the vaulted -caverns and the south-western mountains, where the fugitive Monks -established their hermitage: but hitherto all attempts to discover the -outlet have been unsuccessful. The old Gertrude is no more; the Countess -Urania’s age and infirmity forbids her visiting the Castle; and the -directions, which her memory could furnish, are rendered of no avail, -the vaults being completely altered in appearance by the falling-in of -the roof. Researches made on the outside of the mountain have been -equally fruitless, nor has even the Hermitage itself been discovered. -Probably the holy Society has been dissolved by death: Fame will not -hand down their good works to the admiration of after-ages, but that is -of but little consequence; they stand inscribed in letters of flame in -the book of the Everlasting! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - ELIZABETH OF TORRENBURG - - [CONTINUED.] - - - _Elizabeth, Countess of Torrenburg, to Count Oswald of March._ - -By this, my dear brother, you must be as well informed of the history of -the Ladies of Sargans, as myself; I am impatient to know your opinion of -these papers, and whether the effect which they have produced upon -_your_ mind is as strong, as that which during their perusal I -experienced upon my own.—Yet that is impossible; my peculiar situation -makes these annals inexpressibly interesting to me; and did not the -parchments, from which I have copied them, bear unequivocal marks of -their antiquity, I should suspect their having been written for the -purpose of being laid before me. While I read, I was half tempted to -believe, that the good old Abbot, who recommended them to my notice, had -inserted all those passages, which apply so well to my own situation, in -order to lead me unconsciously to the point, where he has been labouring -to place me; and if this were the fact, how would he triumph in the -success of his design! But the circumstances of these memoirs are alas! -but too authentic; as to their antiquity I have such proofs of it, that -I would boldly match them against the title-deeds of my domains, and -other old documents of that period, at which these annals are stated to -have been composed. - -Nevertheless, feeling it to be of no slight importance to me to know, -whether what I had read was authentic or a mere fabrication, I spared no -pains to ascertain the fact. You are aware, that I became possest of -these writings by little better than a piece of theft; and in truth -there may be good reasons for not communicating to one of the laity -these papers, which contain such frightful memorials of ecclesiastical -guilt.—I could not therefore attack the Abbess on the subject directly; -but as in hopes of pacifying me for my disappointment she had proposed -to relate such particulars respecting the Ladies of Sargans, as were -most worthy of my attention, (an offer, which I at first rejected out of -obstinacy, and through vexation at the denial of my request) I now -summoned her to perform her promise, for the purpose of comparing what I -should hear from her with the particulars contained in the stolen -parchments. - -The Abbess bestowed upon me a few hours every day in that closet, where -the portraits of the Ladies of Sargans had first attracted my attention -to those models of virtue and patient suffering: her account of them did -not greatly vary from that, which I had already obtained. I confess, -that where-ever a clerical person would have appeared in rather an -odious light, whether it was a Monk or a Nun, a Bishop or an Abbess, the -good lady never failed to soften matters and wrap the transgressors up -carefully in the veil of mystery; but those examples of misfortune and -heroic self-command, which appeared so peculiarly applicable to myself, -she confirmed most fully, and exactly as I had read them: nor can I -decide, whether they made most impression on me while reading them alone -and for the first time by the glimmerings of a midnight lamp, or when -they were pronounced by the lips of this holy woman, this earthly saint, -whose head within a few short years (too soon alas! for those who like -me know her worth) will be crowned with wreaths of celestial glory. - -Though scarcely in the autumn of her life, the excellent Abbess already -stands upon the brink of her grave. A slow consumption insensibly -destroys her noble powers, and the repetition of these adventures was a -real sacrifice which she made to friendship. Her present state adds -weight to her testimony. Think you, Oswald, that so near the transit -from time to eternity, she would waste away her hours in relating tales, -which she knew to be mere fabrications?—Impossible! - -No! oh, no! What I have read, is true! The venerable Urania, on whose -image my eye rests with such soft melancholy, and thou too, poor -Adelaide, whose bitter fate beguiled me so often of my tears! you both -once lived and suffered, you both once thought and acted, exactly as I -have read and believed; and these examples of heroic patience, under -afflictions far heavier than mine, shall serve _me_ as guides in the -conduct, which it now becomes me to pursue. - -But for thee, generous Helen! for thee whose fortune so thoroughly -resembles my own, from this moment thou shalt be the model, after which -I will form my whole heart and character; and when my resolution -staggers under the weight of human weakness, to thy portrait will I turn -my eyes for comfort and support. - -My brother, I am convinced beyond the power of doubting, that Helen -herself, and no other, was the authoress of the concluding manuscript. -Every page of it betrays marks of an interest, which none but an actor -in the tale could be capable of feeling; and oh! how much has this -persuasion increased in my eyes the value of the writing! - -At my request the Abbess pointed out to me Helen’s picture; and such was -my enthusiastic partiality, that I was weak enough to fancy a striking -likeness between her features, and those which my mirror shows me. I -made the observation to my venerable friend; she assented to it with a -smile, and added, “that it was not in person alone, that I resembled -Helen of Homburg.”—I started, and requested an explanation as to the -parts of Helen’s history, which were so like my own. Again the idea of -an imposition flitted across my mind; I believed, what had passed -between myself and Ida to be a total secret in the Convent; and if the -Abbess was acquainted with my story, it was still possible, that all -which I had heard from her had been dictated by Abbot Conrad. Her -answer, however, soon removed this suspicion. - -—“Helen,” said she, “was not only fair, illustrious, benevolent, and -pious, like Elizabeth, but she was also learned like Her. I understand, -that the exercise of your pen is your favourite amusement; and there -still exist writings of Helen, which are well-deserving your attention, -and which I would willingly communicate to you, my dear Lady, had I not -been positively enjoined to the contrary by superior orders.”— - -The recollection of my treachery forced the colour into my cheeks. To -prevent my confusion being remarked, I hastened to enquire—“why I was -prohibited this pleasure, and who was my secret enemy?”—The Abbess shook -her head, and confest, that the writings of ecclesiastical persons -frequently contained circumstances improper to be made known to the -laity, for fear of giving a shock to their orthodox opinions. - -—“But only resolve,” she added smiling, “to become one of our -Sisterhood, and when I die, I will bequeath you my station, and full -permission to peruse all the manuscripts deposited in the spacious -archives of this Convent.”— - -Ah! my dear brother, were Montfort a Torrenburg and Ida an Amalberga, -how easy would it be for me to take such a step! But the ill opinion -which I entertain both of Henry and his mistress, and my still lively -sense of the perfidy and injustice with which they repaid my affection, -will perhaps make me yet longer hesitate to act, as would best become -me, and to follow the glorious example of self-denial, set forth in -Helen’s conduct.—Farewell, dear Oswald; my heart is sad, but loves you -tenderly. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _Elizabeth of Torrenburg to Count Oswald._ - -I have confided my secret history to the Abbess. In whom can I more -properly confide, than in her who will soon stand before the Almighty’s -throne, and before whose eyes all concealed things will soon be made -manifest? To whom can I better apply for advice, than to a soul so near -the boundaries of earthly being, that a ray of celestial light already -illumines it, and enables her mental vision to see the things of this -world in their proper likeness? - -She is now informed of every thing; and I must acknowledge, I was -frequently embarrassed by some questions, with which she every now and -then interrupted my narrative. - -—“Then you are certain, _quite_ certain of having been the first object -of Montfort’s affection?”— - -—“I am to understand then, that the attachment between you was equally -strong, and that his whole soul was as much devoted to you, as yours was -to him?”— - -“What? and could he really be so base as to desert you at the very foot -of the altar, merely because at that moment he happened to be struck by -the charms of one of your bridemaids? This seems to me very strange, my -daughter; and me-thinks, it does not well harmonize with the -acknowledged probity of Montfort’s former conduct.—If he had not loved -you, to be sure he would not have persuaded you to fly with him from -your brother’s Castle—and yet, if I recollect right, you mentioned, that -his carrying you off prevented your being compelled to espouse the aged -Count of Torrenburg, who was then as much the object of your aversion, -as (when his virtues became, known to you) he was afterwards the object -of your esteem?—You were young, amiable, in distress, partial to -Montfort ... it is very possible, that love induced him to advise your -flight; but then again it is also possible, that mere sympathy and -compassion _might_ have led him to give the very same counsel, and to -take the very same step.”— - -Such was the vexatious mode of arguing and of seeing things adopted by -the Abbess. I recapitulated the strong reasons which I had to believe, -that in offering me his hand Montfort was prompted by affection.——The -Abbess acknowledged their force; but she added—“that it was very easy -for that, which was at _first_ nothing more than compassionate interest -for the beautiful Elizabeth, to be in time _converted_ into love.”— - -This compliment so ill-timed put me more out of patience, than her -humiliating questions and remarks. It was with difficulty, that I -concealed my ill-humour, and hastily endeavoured to change the subject -of our discourse. - -Alas! my dear brother, everyone seems to be in Montfort’s interests, and -averse to mine. The decision of my venerable counsellor Albert Reding -has just been communicated to me, and I find.... But I will not repeat -to you, what he says: what do wealth and power, what do vassals and -domains concern me now?—My peace is fled, my heart is broken!— - -The Abbess was not easily persuaded to quit the subject: and at length -she put some enquiries, which cut me to the very heart.—They regarded -the friend and companion of my earliest youth, the worthy Richard of -Ulmenhorst, whose love I had rejected, solely influenced by my -partiality for Montfort. I was thrown into such confusion by this -unexpected home-attack, that ... I set all politeness fairly at -defiance, and without replying, abruptly spoke upon another subject. - -We were sitting in the Abbess’s private closet; and I now compelled -those portraits, which had at first excited my curiosity respecting the -secrets of this Convent, to furnish me with an excuse (good or bad) for -eluding questions, which I felt but little inclination to answer. - -—“Holy Mother,” said I, “among all the histories respecting the Ladies -of Sargans which you have related, there is one still unknown to me. You -have always past over the picture, which represents two female pilgrims, -bewildered among the barren wilds of a snow-covered mountain; a picture, -which when I first entered this room, drew more of my attention, than -any of its companions. I at first believed them to represent the -unfortunate sisters, Emmeline and Amalberga; but I do not recollect to -have heard (I had nearly said “to have _read_”) any circumstances in -their history according with the scene before me. How anxiously they -seem to be looking for the right path!—Good Mother, inform me, whether -they found it, and what untoward accident brought them into their -present distress? You really must make me better acquainted with their -adventures, for my whole heart already speaks in their favour.”— - -—“Does it in truth?” said the Abbess, smiling at my eagerness. “Oh! that -good heart!—But look at the picture nearer; see whether you can find in -the countenances nothing to justify your partiality, except the -expression of distress?”— - -I drew near, and examined the picture carefully; but I soon turned away -again, and felt, that my cheeks were burning; in truth something till -then unobserved struck me in the features, but the effect produced was -by no means pleasing. - -—“Well!” enquired the Abbess; “have you discovered any thing?”— - -—“That general family-likeness,” I replied carelessly, “which is -peculiar to the House of Sargans. But I entreat you, Mother, inform me, -who do those figures represent?”— - -—“Two innocent and unfortunate sisters,” was the Abbess’s answer, -“driven from their proper station, and compelled even to conceal their -very names by a succession of untoward circumstances, not by any fault -of their own committing. I could tell you much respecting them, that -perhaps would not appear to you uninteresting; but I am too weak to -undertake the task at present. However, not to leave your curiosity -quite unsatisfied, such an account of them as exists in our archives -shall be looked out, and delivered to you in the course of this evening. -Probably, you will find this narrative more instructive, and in every -respect better worth your inspection, than those which I am compelled to -withhold from you, since the latter were written by Females but little -skilled in literature; while the history, of which I speak, was -transmitted to posterity by the learned pen of an Abbot of -Cloister-Curwald.”— - -—“Of Curwald?” I repeated, with a smile of contempt and incredulity. - -—“Nay, nay, good Countess,” said the Abbess with some warmth; “no -prejudices, I implore you! The author of that manuscript, a copy of -which I propose entrusting to you, was no Guiderius, no Luprian, believe -me! No, daughter, he was one of the wisest and holiest men of the age, -in which he lived; a man in short, whose virtues conferred honour on the -rank of a prelate, and who was in fact, as well as in name, a true -dignitary of the church.”— - -I am now waiting in momentary expectation of receiving the promised -manuscript. The situation, in which I exist at present, is such, as -makes it necessary for me to seize every means of diverting the natural -current of my thoughts into a different channel: it is to this -necessity, that a great portion must be ascribed of the impatience, with -which I look forward to the arrival of this narrative. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - _Elizabeth of Torrenburg to Count Oswald._ - -I have received the manuscript; I have read it, and have read it more -than once.—I send it to _you_, my brother; read it, as _I_ have done; -feel, what _I_ have felt; then will nothing surprise you which you may -hear, respecting the actions of your sister - - ELIZABETH. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - _PART THE SIXTH._ - - THE SISTERS WITHOUT A NAME. - - - _Written by the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald._ - -Above a century has passed away, since the last heroines of that family, -to whose annals I am preparing to add, quitted the scene of human -action. I say, the _last_, because no accounts exist of their -successors; but during that long and vacant period, who knows, but that -many excellent persons may have acted in a manner which did credit to -their ancestors, though no written or traditional memorial remains to -communicate to posterity their virtues and their woes, their trials and -their victories? My heart delights in the tale, which records examples -of heroic excellence; and I have frequently censured the indolence of -cotemporary writers, for suffering this period to remain a blank. Lest I -should deserve that censure myself, which I have not scrupled to inflict -upon others, I now take up my pen, and proceed to execute a task, which -(should I live to finish it) will, I trust, rescue from oblivion some -circumstances well-deserving to be remembered. What I shall set down -will be truth, pure unadorned truth. A just cause demands not the aid of -ornament; and should these leaves ever meet the eye of persons, who may -think themselves more nearly interested in their contents than others, -let them not for an instant suspect, that one syllable is either -inserted or retrenched upon _their_ account, or with a view to produce -any other sentiment in their bosoms, than a conviction of the truth. It -is not before _their_ tribunal, that I plead the cause of two -unfortunates, but before that of the whole world: I write not for them, -whose prejudices may perhaps make them refuse to peruse more than a few -pages of this narrative, and who may close their eyes obstinately -against the light, which shews them that, which they are unwilling to -see. No; I write for impartial judges, and will state my case with as -pure and rigid fidelity, as were I stating it to the ear of Heaven. - -In the tranquil vales, which border the lakes of Thun and of the Four -Cantons, those lakes where Helvetian Liberty first threw her fetters -away, still do the families exist of those best friends of their native -country, the Melthals, the Forests, the Bernsdorfs, and the Tells. Their -different branches have spread themselves on all sides, and almost form -a little nation of their own; whose sons and daughters, even in a land -where honour, bravery, and truth are so universal, still distinguish -themselves from their compatriots by the superiority of their virtues. -It were an easy task for me to point out many Williams, Walters, and -Henrics, many Gertrudes and Amabels in this amiable community, so -perfectly have the good qualities of their fore-fathers been inherited -by their children: but at present I shall only mention the inhabitants -of one particular house, which sheltered the infancy of the heroines of -my tale. - -’Twas the peaceful cottage of a younger William and a younger Amabel, -the descendants of that Tell, who offered up the tyrant Gessler as a -sacrifice to the insulted liberties of Helvetia: here among a crowd of -blooming sons and daughters two lovely girls were remarked, whose -appearance made it evident, that their origin was not the same with that -of their play-mates. It is true, that they called themselves their -sisters, and were persuaded, that in fact they were so; but yet the -truth was quite otherwise. The real children of the family were healthy -and strong like the generality of their kindred; but these two girls -were fair and delicate, and rather resembled beautiful exotic plants -surrounded by meadow flowers, to which they condescended to allow the -honour of a common origin: and however they might themselves esteem the -merits of these simple children of nature, to all other eyes it was -plain, that their own perfections were far superior. - -I have entitled this narrative “the Sisters without a Name,” for it was -long before they knew the family, from which they sprung; and when it -was at length revealed to them, they found, that their rights were in -the possession of strangers. Nay, at the moment that I am writing, they -are still denied the privilege of calling themselves by the name of an -illustrious House, whose dignity would be disgraced by the inferior -station, in which they are at present compelled to exist. - -In the early and happiest period of their lives, the Sisters were -totally unconscious of the magnitude of their claims, and their minds -encouraged no wish to be greater than they were. Happy in the humble -sphere for which they believed themselves ordained, happy in the shades -of their mountains, in the tranquillity of their flowery vallies and -glassy lakes, they considered the scenes which surrounded them, and -which appeared to them so enchanting, as a beautiful specimen of the -whole world; nor did they ever trouble their heads with a thought, -whether beyond those mountains, and on the outside of those vallies, -there existed objects which were deserving of a wish to be acquainted -with. This fortunate unconsciousness was assiduously preserved in their -minds by those, to whose care they were confided; and on -winter-evenings, when William Tell had collected all his children around -him (among whom the Sisters were still reckoned) the stories, with which -he entertained them, always respected some hero or heroine of ancient -Helvetia; so that nothing was made known to them except the country -which gave them birth, and they were led to consider nothing as of -importance but what related to that country, because of that country -alone had they ever been told any thing important. In the same manner -were they instructed respecting the concerns of human life: every -illustration was selected from the lower or middling classes of society -and the manners and customs of the great would have been totally unknown -to them, had it not been for an old man, over whose head near a century -had past, and who was a member of the happy family, in which the Sisters -resided. This good father would often take the two girls apart from -their playmates, and recount to them particulars of the ancient Houses -of Carlsheim, Torrenburg, and Homburg. Mary and Rosanna (so were the -Sisters called, while under Tell’s roof) listened to him with the -greatest interest, and each selected a heroine from among the Helens, -Emmelines, and Uranias, as the object of her peculiar admiration. - -But such ladies of those illustrious families, as had finished their -lives in a cloister, were sure of obtaining the favour of the gentle -serious Mary. She was not fourteen, when she made a pilgrimage to the -Convent of Engelberg for the purpose of kissing the stone, on which -Amalberga was kneeling, when surprised by Landenberg’s emissaries; and -she frequently expressed a wish, that she might one day be permitted to -take the veil in that Convent, which had so long given shelter to the -heiress of Sargans. - -The laughing Rosanna often added to this wish an assertion, that her -sister hoped like Amalberga to exchange in due time the cloister for a -bridal garland; but Mary’s conduct sufficiently proved, that her -religious vocation was at that time no affectation. She was just -sixteen, when William Tell was obliged to comply with her entreaties, -and suffer her to reside at Engelberg. He seemed to consent to this step -unwillingly: but he comforted himself with the reflection, that the -rules of this House permitted no one to pronounce the irrevocable vow, -who had not completed her twenty-fifth year; a period, before whose -arrival a thousand accidents must necessarily have taken place, capable -of shaking the most determined resolutions and the most ardent zeal. - -Rosanna accompanied her sister to the Convent, and for a few days forced -herself to be pleased and satisfied with the religious tranquillity of -her new abode. But at length she could no longer conceal from herself, -that nothing save Mary’s society could have made the manners of a -convent endurable; and that in fact she was much better calculated for -singing and dancing with her young companions on the village green, than -for attending the Abbess and her Nuns to the midnight mass. She -therefore endeavoured to give her occupations some variety by taking an -active part in the internal arrangements of the Convent. - -Rosanna was beautiful, but as yet no one had told her so. None of the -neighbouring youths pleased her enough to make any impression upon -_her_, and the consequence was, that her charms made but little -impression upon _them_. With all her vivacity, there was a certain -something in Rosanna’s manner, which kept the multitude in awe. Every -one admired her, wished her well, was pleased to see her join in their -amusements, but she produced no warmer sentiment. A kind of dignity, of -which she was herself unconscious, prevented the young men from being as -much at their ease with her, as with her companions, and kept even the -least abashed of them at a distance: at length the society was increased -by the arrival of a person, who only required to be seen, in order to -inspire her with a wish to obtain from him something more than -indifference, or mere dispassionate approbation. - -The ancient friendship established between the families of William Tell -and Henric Melthal was kept up by their descendants in all its original -vigour. A son of that Alwyn Melthal, who played the chief part at the -capture of Rassburg, was still alive, and nearly of the same age with -that old relation of William Tell, whom I formerly mentioned. Both these -venerable men were still fresh and hearty in spite of their advanced -time of life; such is indeed the natural effect of breathing the pure -mountain air, and living far from the vices and excesses of cities. The -two families often met together, and their days of festivity were always -observed in common. - -Old Melthal had several children; but now it was rumoured, that one of -them called Erwin (whom no one recollected to have ever heard of before) -was just returned from foreign parts, and that a great feast was shortly -to be given in honour of his safe arrival. Accordingly, the venerable -chief of the Melthals made a tour through the neighbouring districts, -for the purpose of inviting his relations and intimates to assemble on -the green lawn before his house on an appointed day; thence to accompany -his newly-arrived son to the old church on the banks of the Lake, and -return thanks to Heaven for his prosperous return; and finally, to pass -the remainder of the day and a good portion of the following night at -his expence in various festivities and amusements. - -Tell’s family was one of the first invited: the expectation of the -approaching entertainment gave a look of joy to every countenance. In -the great world, no one looks forward to a day marked out for some -amusement with half this enthusiasm: the hurry of tiresome and expensive -preparations; recollections, how often on similar occasions we have -expected more amusement, than we received; the frequent recurrence of -such pleasures, which robs them of the charm of novelty; the suggestions -of mortified vanity or dissatisfied pride; all these combine to embitter -the festivals of the great. But here in the land of innocence and -gaiety, here where no one looks for any pleasure, but that which he is -sure of finding; where pride and vanity have nothing to do; where every -recollection is delightful, and the whole expence and preparation -consist in a wreath of fresh-gathered flowers; here it is, that an -invitation to a party of pleasure is really welcome, and seldom fails of -justifying its name. - -The sun was not yet risen, and the youths and damsels of Tell’s family -were already on their road to Melthal’s cottage. Lots were cast among -the girls to decide, who should have the honour to conduct the -procession; the chance fell upon Rosanna. In consequence, she added to -that which confined her locks, a second wreath of flowers which she hung -round her arm, ready (as was the custom on such occasions) to crown the -hero of the entertainment. It was a special privilege enjoyed by that -company of young people, which arrived first at the place of rendezvous, -that a similar garland to that, with which themselves were adorned, -should ornament the head of the principal personage, whereas the -garlands of the others could only be worn by relations of that -particular family; and this privilege was one, which they valued highly. - -Tell’s children, therefore, entreated their sister Rosanna to hasten -forwards, in order that no one might arrive before them; and obliging as -she ever was, she quickened her steps, though solely from the desire to -comply with their wishes: for she little guessed the sort of youth, for -whom her garland had been woven. She expected to see a person, who would -be as indifferent to her as all those were, whom she had already seen; -and it was a matter of little concern to her, whether she ornamented -with her garland the locks of the young Melthal, or of one of her own -relations. - -But how were her sentiments changed, when at the head of her company she -arrived on the brow of a little hill, and looked down upon Melthal’s -cottage! There sat the old man on a stone bench before the door; and -near him stood a youth, whose countenance was illumined by the rosy -light of the rising sun, and whose figure excelled in manly beauty every -thing that she had ever seen, nay that she had ever thought or dreamt -of.—She started back. - -—“What!” said she to herself; “can this be a son of the old Henric -Melthal? No, no! ’tis certainly some angel, or some saint or martyr at -the least. In truth, I never saw one of the beings, to whom those names -are applied; but I have been told much respecting such supernatural -Existences, and surely if they ever deign to visit the earth in human -form, they must needs resemble yonder youth.”— - -Erwin Melthal appeared to be in earnest conversation with his father: -but no sooner was he aware of the approaching guests, than he hastened -towards them, and delivered a welcome with such unaffected grace and -easy dignity, that Rosanna’s delight and astonishment were raised to the -very highest pitch. - -Tell’s family was in fact the first arrived, and Rosanna’s garland was -without a competitor for the honour of adorning Erwin’s head; an honour, -which she now no longer looked upon as a matter of indifference, and -which she could not have consented to make over to one of her companions -without some little movements of jealousy and dissatisfaction. - -She approached the stranger, while her cheeks were suffused with -blushes, and her hand trembled, as she drew the garland from her arm. He -stood before her like some well grown cedar, and bowed down his head a -little to be crowned by the lovely stranger. She hesitated, retired a -few steps, and looked anxiously round to her female companions, as if -she would willingly have given up her office to one of them: while -Erwin, either out of respect and admiration at the heavenly vision which -now stood manifest before him, or from the more earthly consideration of -the difference between her stature and his own, sank upon one knee -before her, and in this attitude was crowned by her trembling hands. - -It was an established custom, that the conductress of the first company -that arrived, on these occasions should be the partner of the king of -the festival during the whole of the day. Rosanna, who loved to enjoy -the earliest breath of morning and the glories of the rising sun, had -already frequently obtained this privilege without its causing her much -emotion; but now when she reflected, that for a whole day she should be -by the side of Erwin Melthal; that she should kneel on the same step -with him at church; should join at the same time and almost in the same -breath with him in the most solemn offices of devotion; should blend her -voice with his in prayers and anthems; and that at table, in the dance, -at every kind of festivity, she should still have no associate but -Erwin, all this was too much for her to conceive at once, and her -feelings scarcely permitted her to breathe. - -Still she only dared to express those feelings by looks and blushes: but -Erwin, who felt the same, was not confined like her by the restraints of -decorum. He made use of the privilege of his sex, and not only spoke, -but spoke so plainly, that little as Rosanna was skilled in the language -of love, which she then first heard from his lips, she still understood -his meaning; and little as she ventured to answer, still before the -entertainment concluded, she had left no doubt upon his mind, that their -affection was mutual. The embarrassment, which took place at their first -meeting; the gift of her garland; the religious ceremonies in which they -had been engaged together, and in which each had stolen a little from -that which was destined for Heaven, for the purpose of bestowing it on -the other; all these circumstances and a thousand other trifles, which -occurred in the course of the entertainment, assured them, that an -exchange of hearts had taken place, that their sentiments were -sanctioned by the approbation of Heaven, and that every thing would turn -out as they wished and expected. - -From this day forwards Erwin’s leisure was totally engrossed by Rosanna. -The habitations of Tell and Melthal were not so very distant, but that -by setting out at the same time the lovers were certain to meet halfway, -time enough to pass some hours together undisturbed: besides the -intimate connection, which subsisted between the two families, furnished -too many opportunities of intercourse, to admit of their often -complaining of long absence from each other. The passion, which grew -stronger in their bosoms with every hour, was carefully concealed from -every one; not that they had any reason to apprehend censure from their -superiors; but because secrecy seemed to give an additional charm to the -correspondence of their hearts, and because the goal of their desires -seemed to be still at a considerable distance. - -The venerable Melthal, the youth’s great-grandfather, had caused him to -be educated in a foreign country, and intended him for the profession of -arms. Erwin had been long suffered to remain ignorant, both to what -family he belonged, and to what country he owed his origin: but the good -antient (whom the number of his years rather than any sensible infirmity -made conscious, that the close of his existence could not be far -removed) now thought proper to summon his grandson to a private -conference, in which he disclosed to him many particulars of great -importance. - -—“One more campaign,” said Erwin to his mistress, the first time that he -saw her after holding this conversation with old Melthal, “one more -campaign under the Emperor’s banners, in whose service I am at present -engaged; and then will I hasten back to lay my laurels at the feet of my -Rosanna, confess my love for her, and fix my habitation with her in that -quarter of the globe, which her fancy shall prefer. If she thinks proper -still to reside in the shades of her native vallies, there too will I -take up my abode: if she rather desires to see the world (which in truth -has its charms and can show some scenes, with which even these -enchanting solitudes must not come in competition) perhaps her happy -Erwin may succeed in procuring for her there a situation better suited -to her merits, than that which she must fill in the obscurity of these -retired mountains.”— - -—“Dear Erwin,” interrupted Rosanna, “speak no more of this; speak not of -my merits, or of removing me to the great world! Ah! why must you needs -yourself go thither? Is it not enough to make me hate that world, that -it soon must rob me of your society? and alas! who knows, whether you -will return from that wild tumult, which I only know by description, -with sentiments as kind and as honest and true an heart, as you will -bear away with you!”— - -Poor Rosanna was bathed in tears, while she made these representations. -She had had dreams, and omens, and forebodings, which promised nothing -good, and which her lover soon banished by means, which every lover (the -false as well as the true) equally practises on similar occasions. But -Erwin was true as the truest; and his oaths were heard and registered in -the Book of Eternity by the Angel, who suffers no perjury to escape -unpunished. - -There was one person in the world, with whom Rosanna had been too long -accustomed to share all her joys and all her sorrows, all her hopes and -all her fears, not to make her feel uneasy under the profound secrecy, -which she had hitherto imposed on herself respecting her attachment: -that person was Mary. In fact, she had already suffered some distant -hints to escape her, that she had a secret to communicate; and at length -she summoned up all her resolution, and (with Erwin’s approbation) set -forward one morning for the Convent of Engelberg, determined to lay her -whole heart open to her sister’s inspection. - -Though Mary found her own felicity within the bounds of cloistered -retirement, her notions were too liberal to make her consider it as -improper, that Rosanna should seek for happiness in the arms of an -affectionate husband. With folded hands and a countenance bright with -tranquil joy, she piously invoked a blessing on her sister’s union with -the honest-hearted Erwin; though she could not help lamenting with a -sigh, that he should have adopted the profession of Blood! Before they -separated, it was settled between the Sisters, that on an appointed day -Rosanna should conduct her lover to the Convent, in order that Mary -might become personally acquainted with her future brother. - -This interview was not difficult to be procured; Mary had not yet -pronounced her vows, and was left at perfect liberty to employ her time, -as she thought proper. Yet partly from a wish to make the business no -more public than could be avoided, and partly from a movement of -religious enthusiasm which forcibly operated upon her imagination, Mary -desired, that the meeting should not take place, till the evening was on -the point of closing. - -It was in autumn, and the weather proved gloomy. Mary had provided -herself with a key of the Chapel, and it was in this awful place, that -she received the lovers. A small porch, faintly lighted by the -glimmerings of a distant lamp, witnessed their first meeting. Mary (who -in spite of her extreme youth had already adopted the dignity and grave -character appropriate to her destined station) spoke long and seriously -to the warrior, respecting the sincerity of his attachment and the -sacred nature of his engagement to Rosanna. His answers were such as she -most desired to hear; and she now conducted them into the Chapel, where -she had already placed two burning tapers before an altar consecrated to -Saint Engeltruda. - -—“Kneel,” said she, “kneel upon the stone, on which Amalberga was -kneeling when seized by the sacrilegious Landenberg; kneel, and swear in -the presence of God and of this chapel’s Patron-Saint, never even in -thought to swerve from the strictest rules of eternal truth and -unsullied virtue: so shall this place be cleansed from the pollution, -which it contracted from the impure steps of the virgin’s ravisher!—May -Landenberg’s fate be thine, Erwin, shouldst thou ever for one instant -prove faithless to Rosanna!—Never may’st thou, Rosanna, find in the time -of need such a preserver as Amalberga found in Eginhart, shouldst thou -ever forget the man, to whom I now solemnly betroth thee in the face of -listening Heaven.—Let nothing part you, but the grave!—And should -hereafter either of you from inconstancy or caprice rend asunder the -sacred bonds, with which I now unite your fates for ever, that instant -shall my form (be I living, or be I dead) stand before you threatening -and awful, and warn you to return to the paths of propriety and -duty!—But peace, everlasting peace be with the bosoms of faith, and may -the wings of angels overspread them and preserve them!”— - -Erwin and Rosanna, as they gazed on the lovely form, which stood before -them illuminated by the pale light of the consecrated tapers, fancied -themselves in the presence of some celestial being. They thought, that -in her words they heard the voice of her Patron-Saint; they swore -fidelity while life should last, and Mary kissed and blessed them. - -She then accompanied them to the Chapel-porch; and the betrothed or -rather the espoused lovers (for as such they now considered themselves) -bent their course homewards beneath a sky heavy with the dews of an -autumnal evening. Not one syllable did they exchange, as they past -along; a gentle pressure of the hand occasionally was the only manner, -in which they gave token of their feelings. Yet was their joy not quite -unclouded; a secret heaviness weighed down their hearts: melancholy -forebodings forbade their abandoning themselves entirely to the -delightful thought—“We are united for ever!”— - -The three actors in this solemn and singular scene had not enveloped -their secret in so impenetrable a veil, as they imagined; and this -transaction was the means of their meeting with many severe reproofs -from those, to whom they were in subjection. The youthful devotee had -been watched by an inquisitive Nun; and the respectable office, which -she had thought proper to perform on this occasion, was made known to -the Abbess the next morning. Severe were the censures past by that -good lady on Mary’s boldness, in assuming a character so ill adapted -to her time of life. On the other hand, each of the lovers was -closeted by the chief of their respective families; and many -representations were laid before them in these private conferences, -which seemed to make great impression on the minds of both, though -they had not the smallest effect in diminishing their mutual -attachment. At their next meeting Erwin revealed not to Rosanna one -word of the conversation, which he had held with his grandfather -Melthal; neither on _her_ side was Rosanna more communicative of the -information, which she had gained from the old William Tell. They only -confest to each other, that the main-topic of both these secret -conferences had been reasons for their renouncing their so lately -contracted union; and the question was exchanged—“Whether what each -had heard, but which neither revealed, was of such force, as to -authorize their breaking vows, which had been pronounced with such -solemnity”—“No!”—uttered in a tone so positive, as to convey in it a -renewal of all their former oaths, was the reply on both sides: yet -they agreed to commit their cause to Heaven and Time, and to suffer, -to hope, and to believe, what (in secret each was compelled to own) -appeared then to be impossible. - -That Erwin and Rosanna were mutually attached to each other, had been -long suspected; but the fact was now made known throughout the Province, -and the prejudice ran universally in favour of the lovers. The youths -and damsels exclaimed loudly against the severity of the two fathers; -and even the old people shook their heads, and let a few words escape -them now and then about inexplicable obstinacy. They declared, that -Melthal’s son and Tell’s daughter seemed to be formed for one another, -that they ought to be united, and that united they would be some day or -other, happen what might. Whenever they encountered the dejected lovers, -they never failed to whisper some kind exhortations to be faithful, and -to hope for better times; while on the other hand their young companions -were anxious to furnish them with opportunities of meeting, and -frequently in their village festivals the lovers suddenly found -themselves encircled by the same chain of flowers, and heard every voice -unite in singing the praise of their tender attachment and their wishes -for its happy issue. A thousand ballads were made upon them, some -plaintive, some gay, and they circulated from mouth to mouth with -rapidity; for the love of Erwin and Rosanna was an affair, in which the -whole Province felt itself interested. - -This universal good-will, however, advanced their cause but little. When -they were alone, each spoke of eternal fidelity and insurmountable -difficulties; each made it evident, that a secret sorrow weighed heavy -upon the heart; each found fault with the father of the other, and -declared him to be extremely in the wrong; while the father of the -speaker was asserted to be perfectly in the right, at the same time that -to obey him was acknowledged to be impossible. As to the two old men, -they took no steps towards an explanation. It was rather observed, that -from this time forward they shunned each other’s society, and seemed by -the mutual distance thus suddenly created between them, to give their -children a hint of the conduct, which they expected them also to adopt. - -Sooner than they were aware, chance relieved them from the troublesome -employment of watching over the lovers. Erwin was unexpectedly summoned -to join the Emperor’s army, and the orders were so pressing, as not even -to permit his taking leave of his mistress. Yet as he past by it on his -road, he said a short but fervent prayer in the Chapel of Engelberg; he -commended himself and his fortunes to the protection of that Saint, who -had heard his vows pronounced; and Mary being fortunately among the -Nuns, and within reach of his eye, he implored her by signs to bear his -melancholy greeting to her sister. Mary perfectly understood the meaning -of those signs; though it was long, before an opportunity presented -itself for complying with his wish. Ever since her culpable interference -in unhallowed love-affairs, the virtuous Lady Abbess had caused a strict -watch to be kept over Mary; and though Rosanna’s heart was full and -greatly needed the consolations of a sister’s tenderness, she still -hesitated to visit Engelberg. The secret, which the old Tell had -revealed to her, was a dead weight upon her heart; she knew well, that -it was her duty to make it immediately known to Mary, who was no less -interested in it than herself; and she trembled to hear the decision, -which (she doubted not) would be pronounced even by her truest friend -and the partial favourer of her love, as soon as she should be made -acquainted with the real nature of the case. - -The useful art of penmanship, which a century before had been familiar -in these parts, and practised by persons totally unconnected with -learned pursuits, even by women, (as the annals of the Ladies of Sargans -testify,) at the present period was fallen into neglect. With the -exception of some few characters of distinguished merit, it was confined -to the clergy, and alas! in this respect Erwin and Rosanna were -completely laical: neither was it safe or prudent to confide their -tender secrets to the discretion of chance messengers; and it -necessarily followed, that the lovers were but seldom informed of the -proceedings of each other. Common fame however occasionally brought the -maid tidings of her warrior not less strange than satisfactory; and the -girls of the Valley frequently were able to comfort their sorrowing -companion with reports, which asserted Erwin’s heroism to be only -equalled by his good fortune. Rosanna’s heart readily gave credit to -assertions so flattering; and she was too well disposed to believe them, -to require much proof of their veracity; nay, she sometimes was so -completely fascinated by the illusions of Fancy, that she could not -refrain from communicating her hopes to the venerable Tell. - -—“Surely, my good father,” would she say to him, “should Erwin return to -me crowned with honour and renown; should he be really what Fame -asserts, the favourite of his Emperor, what is more probable, than that -the lowness of his origin should be sunk in the splendour of some -new-acquired title, and his merits be rewarded by his elevation to some -station of importance? and in that case, where would be the impropriety -of my giving him my hand? and what obstacle would my mother’s -injunctions oppose any longer to our union?”— - -The old man on hearing such observations never failed to exclaim against -the credulity of young minds, and to warn the exulting girl against the -painful effect, which evil tidings would produce upon her mind with as -much facility and with still greater violence. They say, that Age often -possesses the gift of second-sight; it is at least certain, that what -Tell foreboded, happened but too soon. On a sudden, Rosanna’s Companions -greeted her arrival no more with chearful songs of encouragement and -hope; the name of the heroic Erwin now was never suffered to pass their -lips; when she enquired, whether no tidings of him had reached the -Valley, her question was evaded. At length the deep mourning, in which -the Melthal family appeared, made public the dreadful intelligence, -which her friends had so long concealed from her, and the relation of -which struck her senseless to the earth, as if it had been a flash of -lightning. Erwin had accompanied his sovereign to relieve the Fortress -of Bender, which was besieged by Sultan Amurath, and in an unsuccessful -attack upon the enemy’s camp had fallen as became a warrior. The whole -Valley was afflicted at his loss; the old Melthal was inconsolable. -Shortly afterwards he left his home to visit the Castle of a nobleman, -who had been long his patron and his friend, and he returned no more. -Death surprised him on his journey; and his children brought nothing -back but his bones, which they buried in his native land, that land -which through life he had ever loved so dearly! - -It seemed, as if at this period every kind of misfortune had conspired -to ruin this once so happy Province. It was visited by continual storms, -such as had never before taken place within the memory of man: the -mountain-torrents deluged the country with unusual fury; nor was it -possible for the cultivators, industrious as they were, to bring their -ruined fields into order again, till a considerable time had elapsed. -The crops failed; prices rose; at length the distress became universal, -and it was soon followed by the twin-sisters of Death, Famine and -Disease. - -Rosanna saw so many of the venerable fathers of the Valley sink into the -grave, and wept over the tombs of so many of her youthful friends, that -she could not but expect the lot soon to fall upon herself and her good -old grandfather. The first was as earnestly desired by Her, who -languished to embrace her Erwin in the land of shadows, as the latter -was looked forward to with terror. She anxiously wished to lengthen the -days of one, who was now almost her only friend, and she implored him to -retire for a while from a spot become so dangerous. It was not far from -Tell’s habitation to the Convent of Engelberg, and there the plague had -not as yet commenced its ravages. Mary obtained permission from the -Abbess to take possession of an uninhabited monastery, which made part -of the domains of Engelberg; and she now hastened like some benevolent -Angel to guide her sickening relations to the place of refuge, which she -had found for them, and where she proposed to be their nurse herself. As -many as were still capable of moving, blest her, and followed her to the -Monastery; Rosanna and Tell made part of the melancholy caravan, which -Death had taken care to prevent from being numerous. In defiance of the -extreme danger, Mary resided with them, and administered to their -necessities with her own hands. Her exertions were crowned with their -deserved success; she had the happiness of rescuing all her patients -from the grave, except the grey-headed Tell. Yet even He did not fall a -martyr to the plague; Mary’s unceasing efforts had relieved him from -that poisonous enemy; but the weight of near an hundred years prest him -down, and forbade his ever rising again from that bed, from whose side, -during the time of his most imminent danger, he had vainly entreated -Mary and her sister to retire and attend to their own preservation. - -—“My children,” said he at length, when no doubt remained that the hour -of his death was at hand, “I feel, that we must part: and long as my -worldly course has lasted, still at its close does nothing press heavy -on my heart except the reflection, that I leave your fate and fortunes -undecided. Rosanna, have you communicated to your sister those -circumstances, which I thought fit to lay before you, in order that you -might be convinced, that an union with Erwin Melthal would be ill-sorted -and improper in every point of view?”— - -Rosanna replied in the negative; she had of late found but few -opportunities, she said, of seeing her sister; and even when they were -together, the Lady Abbess (whose notions of decorum had been greatly -shocked at the share, which Mary had taken in the Chapel-scene) had -watched them with such vigilance, as effectually prevented any -confidential communications. She concluded her apology for having so -long neglected to obey his injunctions, by entreating him to suffer Mary -to retain the pleasing illusion that she had a right to his affection; -an illusion, with which she herself had parted so unwillingly. - -—“It must not be,” answered the expiring Tell; “it is necessary, that -both of you should be aware, that you are no grandchildren of mine. The -story of your birth is long; Rosanna is informed of all the -circumstances, and will relate them to you, my gentle Mary, at some hour -of leisure: at present learn from me such points, as are most essential. - -“You and your sister are the sole remaining descendants of the younger -branch of the ancient and illustrious families of Carlsheim and Sargans. -That you have past so large a portion of your lives in obscurity, and -that your great expectations are still in so questionable a state, you -must accuse the superstitious obstinacy of the Countess, your deceased -mother. She was a daughter of the Count of Mayenfield, and her -extraordinary beauty made her the object of universal admiration. Among -her suitors were numbered the heads of the two families of Torrenburg -and Werdenberg, both equally descended from the united House of -Carlsheim and Sargans. The latter was accepted; the former was not only -rejected, but even held by your mother in the most absolute detestation. -On the contrary, the Count of Torrenburg (who is still alive, and whose -excellent heart never harboured resentment against any human being,) not -only forgave the slight, but continued on the most friendly terms with -his successful rival. He succeeded in expelling from his bosom his -unfortunate passion, bestowed his heart on another lady more capable of -estimating its worth, and his marriage was blest with two sons, as was -that of the Count of Werdenberg with two daughters. On this fortunate -occurrence taking place, the fathers entered into the most solemn -engagements to unite their children in marriage, and by this means blend -inseparably their mutual claims upon the inheritance of each other. - -“My lovely girls, you were these daughters thus betrothed while in the -cradle: I cannot express to you the repugnance, with which your mother -entertained the idea, that she should one day hear you call the sons of -the Count of Torrenburg by the name of husband. The antipathy, which she -bore that family, was increased a thousandfold by the death of her -husband; on which event the great domains of your father (according to -the long-established customs of the Houses, to which you owe your -origin) fell to the only remaining male heirs of the Counts of Carlsheim -and Sargans, the Count of Torrenburg and his sons. The prospect of -recovering the whole of this inheritance by your union with those sons, -and the generous offers made by their father for her accommodation, had -no effect in softening her animosity: she felt, that it was less -disagreeable to lose every thing and sacrifice both herself and you, -than to depart in any degree from her obstinate resolution. - -“Accordingly she quitted the Castle of Werdenberg in the greatest -privacy, and concealed herself in my humble habitation. I had been long -known to her, and in general had been honoured with her confidence; but -she carefully hid from me the real situation of her affairs and the true -motives of her conduct. She did not long survive the loss of her -husband; grief for his death and vexation at the good fortune of -Torrenburg rapidly destroyed her health. On her death-bed she demanded -from me a solemn oath, that I would adopt her orphan-daughters for my -own, and would bring them up according to the instructions, which after -her decease I should find conveyed in writing. - -“That your prudent mother should prefer your being educated in the lap -of rural innocence and tranquillity, rather than in the tumult of the -great world, did not surprise me in the least, and I readily gave the -oath demanded. But when after her death I learned from her papers the -whole extent of my promise, and found myself enjoined to spread the -report of your death, and never to disclose your real names, unless -circumstances should give you a just claim to the inheritance of your -ancestors, my surprise was extreme; and gladly would I have called back -the oath, which your mother had carried with her into the grave, and -which therefore was irrevocable. - -“As the case stood, no choice was left me, and I was compelled to obey -your mother’s injunctions respecting your education. It greatly -comforted me to find, that the secret of your real station was not -confined to myself. The deceased Countess mentioned in her will, that -the Bishop of Coira and the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald (both of them -related to her though but distantly) were aware of her design, and had -sanctioned it with their consent; and I concluded, that since her -determination had found favour in the eyes of such learned and -respectable persons, it must needs have claims to approbation, which my -own understanding was too short-sighted to discover. - -—“It is possible,” it was thus that the Countess exprest herself in her -last will; “it is possible, however trifling the probability seems at -present, that the family of Torrenburg may become extinct; or that it -may please Heaven to deprive it of male heirs, as it has been pleased to -deprive the family of Werdenberg. In that case, let the claims of my -daughters be advanced, and the documents produced, which are deposited -in the hands of the Bishop of Coira, and in the archives of -Cloister-Curwald: for the rights of these consolidated families are so -ordained, that the daughters can only lay claim to the inheritance of -their ancestors, in case no male heir should exist; a regulation, on -whose justice I am too little learned to give an opinion, and whose -effect I possess too little power to counteract. - -“But as it is possible, that my orphan daughters may one day become the -heiresses of Sargans, care must be taken to prevent their adopting any -measure, which may make them blush at recollecting the obscurity, in -which they are to pass their early years. I desire therefore, that you -William Tell (whom I appoint their guardian) should not only bring them -up innocently and virtuously, but should make them mistresses of as many -elegant accomplishments, as circumstances will admit. Above all I -command you on no account to suffer them to contract a marriage -unsuitable to their illustrious birth. Unless a mother’s fondness -deceives me, they will be singularly beautiful. Providence ever watches -over the orphan’s destiny; and perhaps even in their humble station -their charms may attract the observant glance of some young nobleman. -Should such be the case, William Tell is at liberty to remove all -obstacles to such an union, by revealing to the lover the real name of -the parents of my daughters; and I also absolve him from his oath in so -far, as to authorize him to disclose to themselves the secret of their -illustrious origin, whenever they are sufficiently arrived at years of -discretion, to make such a disclosure necessary or useful.”— - -—“Here is this important paper,” resumed Tell after a short pause, for -this long discourse had greatly exhausted him; “you will read it over -together at your leisure: but one thing more I must observe to you. The -Countess was no less averse to the seclusion of a convent than to -ill-assorted marriages.—In one place (which I have pointed out for -Mary’s observation by three crosses) she writes thus—“Be the veil the -last refuge of my children, and on no account must either of them be -suffered to assume it before her six-and-twentieth year. Then, if no -more inviting prospect presents itself, their real rank may be revealed -to the Superior, and the sums (which I leave for that purpose in the -hands of William Tell) appropriated to the endowment of the Convent, in -which they think proper to pronounce their vows.”— - -—“I trust,” continued the old man, “that I have not abused the -confidence with which your noble mother honoured me. Anxiety to leave no -part of her commands unexecuted made me lose no time in hastening to the -Bishop of Coira and the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald, and requesting their -advice respecting your future education. I found them already fully -acquainted with the intentions of the deceased Countess; I also gathered -from some words which escaped them, that all the singular injunctions of -that lady’s will related to an old prophecy, by which the daughters of -Werdenberg were threatened with the most severe mortifications and -persecutions through the means of the family of Torrenburg. For my own -part, I cannot say, that I lay any great stress upon these old -traditions, and even look upon belief in them as little better than rank -superstition: nay, I am almost persuaded, that the very means taken to -avoid the dangers with which such prophecies menace us, frequently -produce their accomplishment, of which (unless I am much deceived) your -own history will furnish an additional proof. The two reverend -gentlemen, however, were quite of a different opinion from me on this -point; in truth, they received so ill a hint of this nature which -escaped me, that if I had not held my tongue in good time, I verily -believe, they would have excommunicated me as an arch-heretic. Luckily, -the business was not to decide, whether your mother’s opinions were -right, but whether her will should be obeyed; and on this head all three -were of the same way of thinking. - -“Annually I made them a visit to lay before them my proceedings, and -receive instructions respecting your future conduct. At length they -died, both nearly at the same time, and were succeeded by Bishop -Sigisbert, and Abbot Conrad the Fourth, who also succeeded to the -knowledge of your secret. The latter of those prelates (as you probably -remember) once visited our cottage, as it seemed, by accident. He saw -you, and felt himself greatly interested in your welfare. I have -informed him of my illness, and also of the melancholy occurrences which -have lately taken place, and which render these vallies no longer a safe -retreat. In his answer, the good Abbot promises you his protection, -proposes to remove you to those scenes where your noble ancestors once -ruled, and engages (when the proper time shall be arrived) to support -your claims to the utmost of his power. - -“The sons of the Count of Torrenburg are dead; the Count himself is a -widower, but is not quite so far advanced in years as to make his -contracting a second marriage highly improbable. Still you have much to -expect from his known generosity of mind, and I cannot but flatter -myself, that you may look forwards to more fortunate times! Oh! with -what content could I lay my head down in my grave, were I but certain -that this hope will soon be realized! But alas! every thing shows itself -to me, as if still at a fearful distance! Every thing seems covered with -a gloomy veil of clouds. Many and many a bitter sigh must you heave, -many and many a painful step must you tread, ere you regain that -station, whence you have been degraded by maternal obstinacy and -superstitious prejudice.—Yet take courage, my children; an invisible -hand still guides the steps of the innocent, and you will find a -powerful friend and safe adviser in the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald.”— - -Here the old man concluded; his adopted daughters were silent, and -wept.—All that they had heard, all the glorious prospects, which were -just presented before them, were unable to overpower the melancholy -conviction, that the hour was arrived, when they must close the eyes of -that venerable man, who had for so many years cherished them with all -the fondness of a father. In losing him, they foresaw too the loss of -those simple pleasures, which had made their childhood glide away so -gaily, and for which they feared to find the advantages of their new -situation but a sorry and incomplete exchange. - -Tell visibly became weaker, that is, his body became so; but his mind -preserved its strength unimpaired, and to the last moment of sensibility -possest its gaiety and freedom. He had indeed got the better of that -illness, which at first confined him to a sick couch, but he sank under -the burthen of his years. His heart at length felt the arrow of death; -though in truth that metaphor is here inapplicable, for he felt no -wound, he endured no pain. His existence ended in a gradual peaceful -slumber; the lamp of his life was extinguished gently and imperceptibly. - -Abbot Conrad arrived before the decease of Tell, for the purpose of -removing the Sisters: but they implored a short respite. Gladly would -they have remained Tell’s daughters all their lives; it was no light -blow, that could sever the bonds, by which they were connected with the -good old man; even Death was unable to effect this completely, and their -affection still followed him even beyond the grave. Neither was Conrad -anxious to remove them from the dying man: it was a blessed sight for -him to witness the gentle departure of a just spirit, and for once to -behold the so-dreaded form of Death arrayed in the peaceful appearance -of a beneficent Angel. Neither was it an uninteresting sight, to see two -girls in the bloom of youth and beauty turning away from the brilliant -prospects of the world, to dwell with their whole souls on one of the -most sorrowful and painful scenes, which can meet the eye of human -nature; to see two highly-born princesses weep at resigning for such -sounding titles the dearer-ones of daughters and sisters in the abode of -rustic innocence; and to hear them at the grave of their common ancestor -vow to their former play-mates, that they should ever hold their -relationship as the most close and precious, though the whole universe -should unite in endeavouring to efface the recollection of it from their -minds. - -Tell’s children could not understand rightly, what their supposed -sisters meant by such assurances; and the Abbot thought it unnecessary -to explain to them a mystery, which their approaching separation from -the young Countesses of Werdenberg would soon make sufficiently clear. - -The Abbot was obliged to be more communicative with the Domina of -Engelberg. He found no great difficulty in obtaining her permission, -that Mary (or Constantia, as she was now called, while Rosanna resumed -her baptismal name of Ida.... Yes, Elizabeth! Ida and Constantia were -their _real_ names!) that Mary should for a time make trial of a worldly -life, and should postpone her adoption of the veil till after the -unravelling of her destiny. Three conditions however were annexed to the -permission; first, that in case her call to a religious profession -should be confirmed, that she should pronounce her vows in no other -Convent than Engelberg; secondly, that in remembrance of her -cloister-duties she should always wear the habit of the Order; lastly, -that in case of the worst (by which the pious lady meant an union with -an earthly bridegroom) she should not assume a worldly dress till her -wedding-day, and should purchase the permission of renouncing the veil -by a handsome benefaction to the Convent of Engelberg. The abbot -understood the manners of the cloister, and agreed to these conditions -on behalf of his wards; who in the mean while heaved many a sigh, while -preparing for a journey, from which their hearts boded no good. - -In the sphere in which they now moved, every thing appeared strange to -them, and consequently disagreeable, from their not being accustomed to -such manners and appearances. The splendour of Bishop Sigisbert’s court -(at which they now resided) was too dazzling to be pleasant to eyes, -which were only used to admire the simple charms of Nature; and when -compared with those scenes, in which their childhood had past so -happily, everything which now offered itself to their notice seemed -ridiculous and frequently disgusting. - -The Bishop, who felt the greater interest in the welfare of his young -wards on account of their simplicity and want of relish for the -dissipations of the world, was soon obliged to consent to their retiring -from his court, and taking refuge in the tranquillity of a Convent at -Zurich. Here Constantia was perfectly at ease; but Ida, who had been -always accustomed to liberty, was but half satisfied with the restraints -of her abode. Nay, she would have found them insupportable, had not the -recollection of Erwin Melthal followed her to the Convent, and made -solitude and silence agreeable, by suffering her to indulge unrestrained -the melancholy of her heart. In truth, Ida had so little of that lofty -spirit, which should have been united with her lofty station, that the -remembrance of the son of an humble peasant, who had perished as an -undistinguished warrior, still was sacred to her affection; and often -did she assure Constantia, that were he still in existence, she would -rather have renounced her birth-right than the hope of being one day -called his wife. - -—“I concealed my rank from Erwin,” said she, “that his love might not -take the alarm at hearing the proud title of the Countess of Werdenberg: -but I will not conceal the affection which I felt, and still feel for -this Erwin, this humble peasant’s son, this undistinguished warrior, -from any one, should any one hereafter think proper to demand my hand. -No! I will avow my passion openly and firmly; and doubtless this -confession will be enough to make my noble suitors abandon a girl, whose -folly sets so little value on illustrious birth and titles handed down -by a long line of ancestors.”— - -Constantia was a little embarrassed in answering these declarations. Not -being in love, she could not easily reconcile the union of two such -names as Erwin Melthal, and Ida, Countess of Werdenberg: yet still she -could not efface from her memory the solemn vows, which had passed -between them; and in particular she could not but lay great stress upon -their having been affianced before the altar of St. Engeltruda; a -transaction, in which she had herself borne so principal a part. However -the sum of her reflections was (though the goodness of her heart made -her sigh, as she confest it) that it was fortunate, that Erwin’s death -had solved all the difficulties, which would otherwise have arisen; and -she could not but fancy, that in this event she saw the hand of -Providence, which had preserved from degradation the honour of the -illustrious House of Werdenberg. - -In the mean while the Bishop and Abbot Conrad were consulting, how they -might best advance the interests of their young favourites. As they were -not influenced by the prejudices, which made the late Countess of -Werdenberg refuse all intercourse with the family of Torrenburg, and as -they laid no stress upon the before-mentioned prophecy, they soon agreed -to take the straight road (which indeed is always the best) and make the -generous Frederick of Torrenburg immediately acquainted with the -existence and adventures of his long-forgotten relations. The Count was -old, and without children; and it was not unlikely, that he would adopt -these orphans, and bring them up as the future heiresses of his domains. -Under this impression they set forward for his Castle, well provided -with letters and other documents to establish the veracity of their -assertions. - -The Abbot has been heard to say, that when the Count was first informed -of the nature of their embassy, he started and turned pale; as the -Bishop proceeded and made the fact certain beyond the possibility of -dispute, this paleness gave place to a burning crimson, and when the -tale was finished, the Count sat for a few moments lost in silent -meditation; circumstances, from which the friends of the two Sisters -augured nothing good to their cause. The event however proved that they -were mistaken in imagining, that the generous Frederick would wilfully -close his eyes against a truth, because it was unpleasant to him; though -what made it so unpleasant to him, they were then at a loss to conceive. - -He bestowed a noble heart-drawn sigh upon the memory of the Countess of -Werdenberg. He blamed her for having suffered her prejudices to -interfere so much with the welfare of her daughters, and engaged to -repair the injury, which she had done them. Accompanied by the two -Prelates he hastened to the Convent of Zurich, and entreated his -new-found relations to make his abode their own. Deep was the emotion -exprest in his honest countenance, when he first saw the Sisters. In -them he beheld renewed in their most brilliant colours the charms of -their mother, whom he had loved so long and so dearly without success; -and he clasped them to his bosom with tears, which he vainly struggled -to conceal. The girls too felt their hearts attracted towards the -excellent man, and found no difficulty in considering him in every -respect as their father. - -They followed him to his Castle with willingness, were grateful for the -kindness which he showed them, nor did it ever enter their thoughts, -that it was in his power to show them more: but the Bishop was extremely -surprised, that although the Count had acknowledged the validity of the -documents which testified their birth, and had adopted them as his -nieces, he made no mention of their being entitled to any part of his -inheritance, nor seemed to have it in his contemplation to bestow them -on proper bridegrooms. - -—“The little eagerness,” said the Abbot, “which the Count shows for the -wedding of his nieces confirms the report, that he is thinking of one -for himself. I have already heard it whispered, that he is attached to a -young person, with whom we are both well acquainted. She is lovely and -virtuous; nobody can blame Count Frederick’s choice, though perhaps some -people may blame him for making at his time of life any choice at all.”— - -—“I am sorry to hear this,” replied the Bishop; “should children spring -from this union, the claims of our wards will be completely -annihilated.”— - -—“In which case will they be made unhappy?” said the Abbot (who thought -liberally on the subject, and to whom the lady, on whom the Count’s -choice was supposed to have fallen, was even more dear than Constantia -and her sister).—“Their rank is acknowledged; the sums left by their -mother in our charge are sufficient to secure them against absolute -want; their desires are moderate; neither will Frederick’s generosity -fail to provide for them in a manner suitable to their station. But to -expect that he should sacrifice the point, on which he grounds the -happiness of his whole future life, in order that his inheritance may -descend unimpaired to these unexpected newcomers, is really more than I -can possibly justify to myself.”— - -This conversation was communicated to the Sisters: they heard it with -indifference. They were too little acquainted with the world to think -much about events, which might affect their future interests, and were -too grateful to their benefactor to wish for more favours from him, than -such as he could grant without injury to his own feelings. But had they -known on _whom_ their uncle’s choice had fallen, they would have offered -up their most fervent prayers for the success of his suit; and would -have looked forward to the wedding-day with as much heart-felt pleasure, -as to any which they had ever witnessed, while they were still the -daughters of old Tell and Inhabitants of the happy Vale of Rutelis. - -In the circle of young women, with whom their near relationship to the -Count of Torrenburg necessarily brought them acquainted, none attracted -their affection so strongly, as the beautiful Elizabeth of March. The -interest, which Ida felt for this charming stranger was shortly -reciprocal: yet it is probable, that Constantia would in the end have -obtained the largest share of Elizabeth’s friendship and confidence, on -account of that winning softness of manner and gentleness of temper, -which made her a much more universal favourite than her gay and -thoughtless sister, had she not thought proper to retire for a while -from the world not long after the commencement of her acquaintance with -Elizabeth. In spite of Ida’s remonstrances, Constantia entreated her -uncle to suffer her to pass some time in the Convent of Zurich, and -easily obtained her request. - -It seems, that lovely as were the Ladies of Werdenberg, and general as -was the admiration which they excited, still there was not so violent a -contest for the possession of their hands, as the good Bishop had -expected. It was known, that they were dowerless orphans; and as their -uncle’s marriage (though not publicly spoken of) was much circulated in -whispers, this event, which was likely to annihilate at once all the -lofty claims of the Sisters, made their admirers think it to the full as -prudent to confine their admiration for the present to their own -breasts. The gentle Constantia alone found in the young Count of -Thuringia one, who would have chosen her as his bride, had she been -still the daughter of the peasant Tell. Constantia on her side felt, how -generous was the youth’s conduct, and could not doubt the sincerity of -his love: her heart inclined her to listen to him: but she could not -consent to break her religious determinations so quickly and so lightly; -and she retired into the Convent, that she might at least weigh the -matter maturely, and try her suitor’s patience and perseverance a little -by the test of time. - -After her departure, the friendship of Elizabeth and Ida acquired -strength daily; though their intercourse was much restricted by Count -Frederick’s evident dissatisfaction at it, which the unsuspecting Ida -attributed to some unaccountable antipathy conceived by her uncle -against her lovely friend. The fact was, that with all his excellent -qualities the Count was not without his weaknesses; among the chief of -which maybe reckoned suspicion, bigotry, and a fondness for mystery even -in the most innocent things. The last induced him carefully to conceal -the proposals which (under the seal of secrecy) he had laid before -Elizabeth’s father: the first, made him fancy, that Ida had fathomed his -purpose, and from interested motives had endeavoured to set her friend -against him; and his superstitious enthusiasm led him to believe that -the best means of obtaining Elizabeth’s heart and hand was to tell his -rosary more frequently than ever, and bestow enormous donations on the -Church. He gave much; he promised more; and those promises were not -breathed in inattentive ears. The Count’s domestic Priest and the -chaplain of the March family found, that their own advantage was -concerned in the accomplishment of Count Frederick’s wishes; and they -held many a secret and serious conference on the means of bringing about -this union. Besides the grand inducement of avarice, Father Hilarius (so -was the priest of Torrenburg named) had additional motives for action. -He looked on the Damsels of Werdenberg with all that aversion, which old -family-servants ever bear to new-comers; whom they generally consider as -intruders, and whom they fear, lest by _their_ influence their own -should be diminished. But with most invincible antipathy did the Monk -regard the gay and thoughtless Ida, who had sometimes indulged her mirth -at his expence, and whom he was determined to expel from her uncle’s -heart, whatever trouble it might cost him. - -Elizabeth by this time had no secrets for Ida. She informed her, that -her parents had promised her hand to a powerful nobleman, and had -ordered her in the most peremptory manner to prepare for the reception -of her future husband, without even condescending to inform her of his -name or situation. However, she was in truth little curious respecting -him, for her heart was already bestowed upon another. - -—“Yes!” said she to Ida, “I love Count Henry of Montfort, and have every -reason to believe, that I am beloved in return most sincerely. Be this -unknown bridegroom whom he may, he will find himself only an object of -aversion in the eyes of Elizabeth of March.”— - -Ida, judging by her own attachment to the deceased Erwin, agreed, that -to banish from the heart the image of an adored lover was quite -impossible: and Elizabeth was so well-pleased with her friend’s mode of -reasoning, that she embraced her with redoubled affection. Ida advised -her by no means to give up Count Henry; and Elizabeth on the other hand -promised solemnly to follow that advice, which was so perfectly in -unison with her own inclinations. - -—“I am grieved to think,” said Elizabeth, “that probably in future we -shall be suffered to meet but seldom! I have already received some -hints, that my parents suspect you of not giving me such counsels, as -they could wish; and yet in the present situation of my affairs it is so -necessary for me to possess some feeling heart, to whom I can apply for -sympathy and advice!—However, we shall still be able to correspond -privately; and those communications may be made in writing, which the -enemies of our friendship forbid us to impart in conversation.”— - -Ida unluckily knew nothing of the art of writing on her first arrival at -the Castle of Torrenburg; and since that time she had made but little -progress under the tuition of Father Hilarius. She blushed, while she -confest this ignorance; however, on examination Elizabeth was of -opinion, that her friend was already sufficiently advanced to answer all -necessary purposes. - -—“I shall require no circumstantial answers from you,” said she; “a -single expressive word will be enough to convey to me your opinion of my -situation, and guide me in my difficulties: a “yes” or “no” will in -general be sufficient to decide my conduct. On my side, I will take care -to write so large a hand that it can be easily read, and to express -myself in a manner that shall be intelligible only to yourself. Then if -you are _quite_ at a loss respecting any part of my letters, you may -show the isolated passage to your chaplain Father Hilarius. He is a -simple good kind of man, whose understanding is not keen enough to -pierce through our mystery, and who may easily be deceived by two young -girls with all their wits about them.”— - -This “simple good kind of man,” as Elizabeth called him, the pious -Father Hilarius, was perfectly astonished at the diligence, with which -Ida now prosecuted her studies under his direction. Hitherto he had -found her a very inattentive pupil, and as long as his lessons lasted, -Ida was accustomed to yawn without intermission: on a sudden she was -seized with the greatest fondness for that, which hitherto had inspired -her with nothing but disgust: she even requested, that an additional -hour’s instruction might be allowed her every day; and as Father -Hilarius was not _quite_ so simple as the girls had imagined, he -concluded, that there must be some secret cause for this unexpected love -of literature. An epistolary intercourse, arising from some love-affair, -naturally suggested itself to his mind; and he determined to watch with -the eyes of an Argus, whether he could not make some discovery to the -prejudice of his detested pupil. - -Ida soon received a pressing invitation to visit Elizabeth; the Count’s -permission was requested; but as he was now on the point of declaring -himself, and conceived that the presence of his lineal heiress could by -no means be advantageous to his suit, that permission was refused. -Elizabeth therefore had recourse to her pen, and Ida soon received the -following letter. - -—“I told you, that I had every reason to think that he loved me: alas! I -fear, that I deceived myself. He knows my situation; knows, how I am -persecuted; and yet he offers no friendly advice for my relief, nay even -seems to decline every opportunity of visiting the Castle. He is at -present with his uncle, who is too closely connected with my parents to -favour an attachment, which would disappoint their views. Perhaps, he -even insists upon Henry’s giving up every thought of me!—The bridegroom -of my father’s choice has not yet revealed himself: I am still ignorant -of all, except that he is rich, powerful, and _old_; but I am threatened -with his speedy arrival, and have been assured, that the day in which I -am presented to him, shall be that of my nuptials.—Write to me, dear -Ida, and say, what course I should follow: the danger is urgent.”— - -The messenger, who brought this letter, waited for an answer: it was -with infinite difficulty, that Ida contrived to scrawl the following -words. - -—“Write to your Henry: if he loves you, he will hasten to your relief.”— - -Several letters followed the foregoing; though Ida was frequently unable -to decypher whole sentences of Elizabeth’s, and Elizabeth was sometimes -completely at a loss to guess the meaning of Ida’s pot-hooks. But the -next letter of any consequence ran as follows— - -—“Though he is the friend of my parents, my lover’s uncle is not my -enemy. He read the letter which I addrest to Henry, and permitted him to -obey it. Henry has done so: Henry is here, and says that he is come to -save me: but how?—Many a bold resolution presents itself to my thoughts, -but all are too desperate to be adopted without advice. Decide for me, -my friend; I will follow your judgment implicitly.”— - -To this, Ida answered—“Fly with your Henry, and take refuge in his -uncle’s Castle. In _your_ situation, _I_ would not have hesitated to -follow Erwin through the world!”— - -This reply was not received, till the Count of Torrenburg had been -presented to Elizabeth as the man, to whom her hand was destined. The -repugnance, with which she listened to his declaration, was too visible -to escape his notice; but as her parents gave him the most solemn -assurances, that her heart (though not yet disposed in his favour) was -still free from any other attachment, he persisted in his addresses. He -persuaded himself, that his assiduities must in the end make him master -of her affections, if once her hand became his property; and he looked -forward with impatience to the nuptial-day, which was already fixed, and -at no great distance. - -Ida’s reply arriving at this critical moment, produced a rejoinder from -her friend, which put her in no slight embarrassment; for the greatest -part of it was totally unintelligible to her. Of Elizabeth’s former -letters she had frequently failed in decyphering the _words_; but in the -present epistle, even where she had overcome that difficulty, the -_sense_ frequently appeared to her as obscure as ever. - -—“Ah! my sweet friend! how precious should I esteem your last advice, -could I but be certain, that in giving it you were prompted by no motive -but affection for Me. You cannot be ignorant, that all mystery is now -laid aside; the dreaded bridegroom is arrived; and doubtless _you_ must -have been made aware of his intentions, long before my parents thought -proper to communicate them to myself. When therefore you counsel me to -shun this marriage by flight, can I avoid apprehending lest -_interest_.... Ah! forgive me these suspicions, dear Ida! I will not -doubt the sincerity of your friendship.—Yet flight is difficult, -dangerous, disgraceful; Henry himself is unwilling to resort to this -clandestine means of rescue! On the other hand, this hated -Bridegroom.... Why do they tell me of his wealth and power? What are -they to _me_? What are the domains of Carlsheim, Torrenburg, and -Sargans, when balanced against Henry’s heart?—I know not what to -do!—Once more, dear Ida! but _once_ more advise me! Lay aside every -interested motive, which might prompt your counselling me to flight; -assure me, that friendship alone dictates your decision; and then if you -still bid me trust my fate to Henry, I will throw myself into his arms, -and bid adieu to the Castle of March.... alas! perhaps for ever!”— - -Again and again did Ida read this letter, and still found herself as far -as ever from understanding it. She would gladly have submitted it to -some more learned head than her own; but her sister was absent, and -prudence forbade her communicating it to the chaplain. Above all, the -line which contained the three difficult words “_Torrenburg_,” -“_Carlsheim_,” and “_Sargans_” set all her skill at defiance; and she -could not but fancy, that were she once mistress of the meaning of that -one line, it would make the rest of the letter quite intelligible.—And -then what harm could there be in showing a stranger that single passage? -The reader would certainly be able to gain but little information from -it; and arguing thus, she cut the passage out of the letter, and -hastened to request Father Hilarius to give her the interpretation. - -Father Hilarius (whose activity was quite indefatigable, when exerted to -find out what could injure his enemies, among whom he numbered the -innocent Ida) already suspected the secret correspondence between his -pupil and Elizabeth. The subject of it, however, was still unknown to -him; but now the whole was as clear as day-light. He read what was shown -to him, guest the remainder, and malicious pleasure sparkled in his -eyes. To put the matter beyond a doubt, he pretended, that it was -impossible to understand the meaning of a passage so detached, and -demanded a sight of the whole epistle. This, however, was refused him: -upon which he declared it to be his opinion, that “the difficult words -in question must be Greek; for _his_ part, he could make neither head -nor tail of them.”— - -Ida went away out of all patience! However, as she could not discover, -that her friend’s situation had undergone any material alteration since -her last letter, she at length determined at all events to send her the -same answer: accordingly the messenger was despatched with a note -containing only——“Flight! instant flight.”— - -Ida’s belief, that the bands of love once formed could never be broken -(together with other romantic notions, which she had imbibed among the -Helvetian mountains, respecting justice and injustice, liberty of the -heart, and suitability in marriage) must plead her excuse for the rash -advice, which in the simplicity of her nature she gave her friend; -advice, which afterwards operated to her prejudice so strongly, that it -nearly ruined her reputation and her whole happiness in life. She -counselled Elizabeth to take that step which (had she been herself the -heroine of the adventure) she would herself undoubtedly have taken: this -was the utmost extent of her error; this, and no more! - -The advice was given; the advice was followed. A few days elapsed, and -she heard, that the whole country was in an uproar. The beautiful -Elizabeth of March had eloped with Henry of Montfort; and her brother -Oswald, assisted by the forces of the Count of Torrenburg, had set -forward in pursuit of the fugitives. - -Ida was delighted to find, that her advice had been carried into -execution with so much success: she only feared, lest the lovers should -be overtaken by their pursuers, among whom she grieved to hear her uncle -numbered; she was still ignorant, how deeply he was interested in this -affair, and concluded that he was actuated to take a part in it by the -friendship, which had so long subsisted between himself and the old -Count of March. - -Her prayers and wishes were half accomplished, half rejected. The lovers -were overtaken: but Count Oswald of March was fondly attached to his -sister; some well-disposed persons kindly interfered; Count Frederick -voluntarily resigned his pretensions; and it was finally resolved, that -the errors of love should be pardoned, and the fugitives united in a -public and customary manner. In truth, no one could deny, that Henry was -a much more suitable partner for the blooming Elizabeth, than her -destined bridegroom, the age-stricken Count of Torrenburg. - -Ida was not long without hearing from her friend: this letter, (the last -which she ever received from Elizabeth,) induced her to take a step, -which filled up the measure of her mischances, and not only deprived her -of the favour of her deceived uncle, but totally ruined her in the -general opinion. - -—“Ida! dear Ida! authoress of all my present happiness! How wise was -your advice! How perfectly has it succeeded! Yet a few days, and I shall -become the wife of Henry. Still I shall feel my pleasure incomplete, -unless I can thank you for it with an embrace on my bridal-day. Come -then, my friend! come to place the garland on my brow[5], and rejoice in -the work of your prudence! You will find your sister with me: it was -easy for her to obtain a dispensation from her Abbess. I rejoice, that -your uncle is now in a distant part of the country, as in the present -moment you would certainly have been refused permission to come to me. -As it is, resolve to brave the hazard of a few frowns at his return; he -will soon forget his displeasure at your witnessing my nuptials, being -totally ignorant of every thing which might seriously make him offended -with you, and which (you may be assured) shall never come to his -knowledge.—But though concealed from all others, the friendly part which -you have acted in this business, shall never be forgotten by the -grateful heart of your Elizabeth. - -Footnote 5: - - This alludes to a custom still preserved in many parts of Germany: the - bride wears a myrtle-wreath during the nuptial-ceremony, and it is - usual for her on the day after her marriage to present this wreath to - that female friend, to whom she is most attached. - -“Then haste to me, my friend! I burn with impatience to make my Henry -known to you: he too is impatient to see the friend of his Betrothed, -the kind adviser, to whom the Happy-ones owe their happiness. I have -resolved, that this wished-for introduction shall take place at the -altar, before which I am to pronounce the nuptial vow. I confess, this -decision is in some degree dictated by selfish motives: were Henry to -see the lovely Ida of Werdenberg, before it is too late for him to -retract with honour, who knows but her charms might make him faithless -to the less fair Elizabeth?—Ah! dearest Ida, you are conscious, that I -do but jest; I know well the heart of my friend, and the honour of my -lover! Forgive then the fantastic humours of a girl already half wild -with her happiness, and refuse not to make by your presence that -happiness still greater.”— - -A great part of this letter was as little understood by Ida as the -former one; however, she took good care not to employ the Chaplain to -explain the meaning. She doubted not his opposing her departure for the -Castle of March, since her uncle (though for what reason she could not -imagine) would disapprove of her visit; and in the Count’s absence she -was totally under the direction of Father Hilarius. Ida therefore -contented herself with understanding from the letter, that she was -invited to a wedding, at which the successful counsels which she had -given (together with other friendly services which she had rendered the -happy pair) would make _her_ an important personage; at which she should -meet her sister Constantia, and doubtless many other of her youthful -friends; and where she should exhibit her beauty to the best advantage, -and should dress, dance, sing, and laugh, as she had frequently done on -similar occasions on the blooming lawn of Rutelis. This was enough for -her to know, and to determine her proceedings. On the appointed day -Elizabeth sent a small body of attendants to wait for her friend in a -wood at no great distance from the Castle of Torrenburg. Ida failed not -to join them there; and without bidding adieu to Father Hilarius, she -very quietly set forward for the Castle of March. - -She reached it in safety, and soon found herself clasped in the arms of -her delighted friend. There too she had the happiness of once more -embracing Constantia. The two Sisters past the intervening time between -their arrival and the wedding-day with Elizabeth in her apartment; where -(according to the custom of our times) on such occasions no man was -permitted to show himself, not even the bridegroom. - -The important day arrived. Followed by her lovely companions, herself -the most lovely, Elizabeth with trembling steps and a fluttering heart -approached the altar, where Henry of Montfort waited her arrival. Ida -now stepped forward; she threw back her veil, and prepared to fasten the -wreath of Innocence among the golden ringlets of her friend: a similar -garland hung on her arm, with which she was afterwards to present the -bridegroom. Occupied entirely with the task of decorating Elizabeth, she -had not yet cast her eyes on young Montfort; she had not observed, that -he started on beholding her; she had not heard the name of “_Rosanna_,” -which escaped from his trembling lips. She now turned to him for the -purpose of offering him the other wreath; she already extended her hand; -when fixing her eyes on his countenance, she uttered a cry expressive at -once of the utmost surprise and terror, attempted but in vain to -pronounce the name of Erwin Melthal, and would have sank upon the -ground, had not Constantia rushed forward and received her in her -supporting arms. - -Constantia still wore the habit of a Nun; the altar was adorned exactly -in the same manner, and the blazing lamps shed the same mysterious light -along the fretted roots and gloomy arches, as on that day when Erwin and -Rosanna knelt at the shrine of St. Engeltruda, poured forth the most -solemn vows of eternal fidelity, and heard Constantia devote the breaker -of those vows to unceasing shame and sorrow.—Erwin Melthal (or rather -Henry of Montfort, for alas! they formed but one) had long believed the -lovely Sisters to be no more the inhabitants of earth: Constantia on the -other hand was in the same error respecting Erwin. The sudden appearance -of one, whom she had long since numbered with the dead, imprest upon her -countenance something of that serious, that strangely awful expression, -which struck him so forcibly, when she united his hand with Rosanna’s in -the Chapel of Engelberg. He recollected her words—“Should either of you -rend asunder the bonds, with which I now unite your fates for ever, that -instant shall my form (be I living, or be I dead) stand before you -threatening and awful, to reproach you with your crimes.”—These -recollections, and the unexpected appearance of the Sisters, at the very -moment when he was on the point of giving his hand to another, made him -consider the whole scene as a supernatural vision! He believed, that the -forms which stood before him, were creatures of another world; his brain -was unable to support the shock; the surrounding objects floated before -his eyes, his senses forsook him, and he sank without animation at the -feet of his astonished bride. - - - END OF THE THIRD VOLUME. - - - - - PRINTED BY D. N. SHURY, BERWICK-STREET, SOHO. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ● Transcriber’s Notes: - ○ Errata listed in volume IV have been applied to this volume. - ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected. - ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only - when a predominant form was found in this book. - ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FEUDAL TYRANTS, VOLUME 3 (OF -4) *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Feudal tyrants, volume 3 (of 4)</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>The counts of Carlsheim and Sargans</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Christiane Benedicte Eugenie Hebenstreit Naubert</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Matthew Gregory Lewis</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 23, 2022 [eBook #69624]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Barry Abrahamsen and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FEUDAL TYRANTS, VOLUME 3 (OF 4) ***</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p><span class='small'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c000' /> -</div> -<div> - <h1 class='c001'>Feudal Tyrants; or The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans. Vol. III</h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c000'> - <div><span class='c002'>◆ ◆ ◆</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='c005'>FEUDAL TYRANTS;</span></div> - <div class='c006'>OR,</div> - <div class='c006'><span class='c007'><i>The Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans</i>.</span></div> - <div class='c006'><span class='c008'>A ROMANCE.</span></div> - <div class='c000'><i>TAKEN FROM THE GERMAN.</i></div> - <div class='c000'>IN FOUR VOLUMES.</div> - <div class='c006'><span class='c002'>◆ ◆ ◆</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c008'><span class='sc'>By M. G. LEWIS,</span></span></div> - <div class='c000'>AUTHOR OF</div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c009'><i>The Bravo of Venice, Adelgitha, Rugantino, &c.</i></span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c002'>◆ ◆ ◆</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c002'>VOL. III.</span></div> - <div class='c006'>═══════════════════</div> - <div><em class='gesperrt'>SECOND EDITION</em>.</div> - <div>═══════════════════</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c010'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The portals sound, and pacing forth</div> - <div class='line in2'>With stately steps and slow,</div> - <div class='line'>High potentates, and dames of regal birth,</div> - <div class='line in2'>And mitred fathers in long order go.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'> — <span class='sc'>Gray.</span></p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>══════════════════════════════════</div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c012'><span class="blackletter">London:</span></span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='small'>Printed by D. N. SHURY, Berwick-Street, Soho,</span></div> - <div class='c000'>FOR J. F. HUGHES, WIGMORE STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE.</div> - <div>──</div> - <div>1807</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c013'> - <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span><span class='c014'>FEUDAL TYRANTS,</span></div> - <div class='c000'><span class='large'>&c. &c. &c.</span></div> - <div class='c000'>═════════════════════</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c015'>PART THE FIFTH.</h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>═════════════════════</div> - <div class='c000'><span class='c008'>COUNT DONAT’s DAUGHTERS.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c016'>PART II.</h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div><span class='c002'>◆ ◆ ◆</span></div> - <div class='c006'><span class='c017'>MEMOIRS</span></div> - <div class='c000'>Found in the Cell of a Nun, after her Decease, in the Convent of Zurich.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c018'>Since Amabel Bloomberg traced the -letters which will be found with this, -how many years have elapsed! how -many changes have taken place! How -<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>many persons are now insensible dust, -who are described as agitated with such -anxious fears and ardent hopes, by the -pens of Amabel and the Damsels of -Sargans! Accident has also made me -mistress of the letters of those unfortunate -sisters. Accident, did I say? Surely, -it was something more than mere -chance, which brought them into the -hands of her, who is most able to supply -that chasm, which otherwise would -have been left in these adventures.</p> - -<p class='c018'>To undertake this task I have both -leisure and information sufficient. My -fate was too closely united with that of -the sisters, to permit the slightest particular -concerning them to be concealed -from me; and jointly with theirs will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>my name be handed down to posterity.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Yet is it not an idle vanity, a love of -worldly fame, which makes me desire -this species of immortality?—Well then, -I will repress the wish. Long practised -in self-denial, I will make even this last -sacrifice to my celestial spouse, and -will write, as if I treated of strangers -and of interests quite foreign to myself. -No one shall know my name except -Heaven, to whom alone is thoroughly -known, how much I have suffered!</p> - -<p class='c018'>When I entered the world, the course -of innocence and beauty lay among a -thousand snares and pit-falls, which -were the more dangerous from being -most artfully concealed. This is a truth -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>which I learnt to my cost, before I -sought, and found, tranquillity in a -convent.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Amabel was blind to those snares; -though they were spread carelessly -enough for her to have seen them, had -not her own guileless nature thrown a -veil over her eyes, and had not female -obstinacy made her reject the prudent -warnings of her best friends.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The visit to Engelberg, which she -had agreed upon in concert with her -brother’s wife, was made the next day; -and the latter, as young, imprudent, -and unsuspicious as Amabel, undertook -to excuse her sister-in-law’s absence to -the jealous Arnold, and the sick old -man, who suffered no quarter of an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>hour to pass without enquiring for his -daughter. However, Juttila engaged -to invent some means for satisfying him -till Amabel’s return, which was delayed -much longer than either of them intended.</p> - -<p class='c018'>How indeed could she return so -speedily, since adventures encountered -her on the road, on which she little -reckoned, and whose nature was of sufficient -consequence to have a fearful influence -over herself, and over all those who -were most dear to her? Alas! the cottage -which she left with such a thoughtless -heart, she was destined to revisit -no more with such content: the fate of -the two sisters, which she was so eager -to learn, was now enveloped by such -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>impenetrable darkness, that she in vain.... -But I am running away from the -proper order of events, which in truth -it is natural for one of my profession -and time of life to do. Be it known to -you, my youthful readers that it is not -easy for an old doating Nun to transcribe -even a verse out of her Psalter, without -tacking to it at least a dozen of her own -childish observations.</p> - -<p class='c018'>At Engelberg Amabel found the Nun -to whom Wolfenrad had directed her -to apply, and who was his confidante -and the secret instrument for effecting -the carrying away of Amalberga. She -assured Amabel, that her friend had by -no means been forced away; but that -on account of the assiduities of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>Lord of Landenberg, and the popular -disturbances which increased with every -day, Amalberga had voluntarily chosen -to withdraw herself from Engelberg.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Your partiality for the governor,” -said the artful hypocrite, “and -your incessant pleading in behalf of a -man whom she could not love, made -the Lady unwilling to let you know -her design. I was her sole confidante on -this occasion, and I think I have done -well in enabling the dear soul to escape -from the temptations of the wicked -world! She has taken refuge in the -Convent of Zurich, under the protection -of an old Lady called Urania, who is -either her friend or some near relation, -for I understand, never was there joy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>known equal to that of their meeting.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>In this account Amabel could not discover -the least vestige of deception or -improbability: still she blamed the Nun -greatly for concealing the real cause of -Amalberga’s disappearance, by which -means the spirit of discontent was encouraged -among the people against -Landenberg, who bore the odium of -having violated the sanctuary, and forcibly -carried away an inmate of those -holy walls.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The Nun made but an indifferent defence -against this charge, and Amabel -left her by no means satisfied with her -conduct. However, she soon forgot -what little had displeased her in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>Nun’s conversation, and gave herself up -entirely to the joy of being assured, that -one of her friends at least was safe in -the arms of friendship and of maternal -love.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Oh! that I could but have the -same assurance respecting my beloved -Emmeline!” thus said Amabel to herself, -as she hastened back to her brother’s -cottage; “Oh! that as I pass -homewards, chance would but throw -Wolfenrad in my way, that I might -learn from him what he knows about -the dear-one! He might just tell me -in half a dozen words, and then hurry -away, in order that I might not blush -too deep a crimson, when the severe -Censurer of my actions looks me in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>face, and says with his magisterial air,—‘Now, -Amabel! whence do you -come, and with whom have you -spoken?’—How ridiculous, that Arnold -should take it into his head, that -an old man like Wolfenrad has designs -upon a young creature like me, not yet -twenty! Yet ridiculous as it is, his -anxiety proceeds from the warmth of -his affection for me, and I ought to forgive -my good Arnold for the faults of -his head, when I recollect the kindness -of his heart.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Such were the thoughts which occupied -Amabel, as she hastily retraced -the long way between her home and the -Convent; and as she past along, she -threw many an anxious look on every -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>side in hopes of seeing the man, who -alone could confirm to her the fortunate -escape of her friend. Wolfenrad -had frequently business that carried him -to Engelberg, and it was by no means -improbable, that she should encounter -him on her way.</p> - -<p class='c018'>In fact, the tempter had long been at -no great distance from the fair pilgrim, -though without her seeing him; since -he stole along concealed by a thick hawthorn -plantation, which bordered more -than half the road between the village -and the Convent of Engelberg.</p> - -<p class='c018'>It is easy for the wicked to guess -what steps will be taken by unsuspecting -innocence, whose proceedings are -the natural result of existing circumstances -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>and feelings. Wolfenrad knew -how warmly Amabel’s heart was interested -about her friends; he had given -her hopes of obtaining intelligence respecting -them; he had pointed out the -place, where a part of those hopes might -be realized; and he was therefore certain -of finding her on the road to that -place, before many days were elapsed. -He had accidentally missed seeing her -on her way to Engelberg; but when on -her return she was descending the Convent-hill, -he espied her from behind -the watch-tower which stands at the -farthest extremity of the mount, and -then hastened to shelter himself behind -the hawthorn hedge, in order that he -might unseen watch her motions, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>discover what temper she was in, before -he accosted her.</p> - -<p class='c018'>And thus did he for some time steal -along, examining every change of her -expressive countenance, and drawing -but too just conclusions of the subject, -which employed her thoughts. Her -look, now gay, now sorrowful, and -the impatient glances which she frequently -threw around her, would have -been sufficient to betray her, even -though a few broken sentences, which -escaped from her in the anxiety of her -mind, had not left him without a doubt -of his presence being perfectly welcome.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Wolfenrad’s plans for the innocent -girl’s ruin had been so long arranged, -that they were ready to be carried into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>effect at a moment’s warning; nor -could he have wished for a more favourable -opportunity than the present. -The fiercest passion for Amabel reigned -in his bosom, and deceived <i>him</i> who -was so well skilled in deceiving others. -He fancied, that in her impatient looks, -in the tone which she used in pronouncing -his name occasionally, there was -something more than mere friendship -for Emmeline, and that love was the -motive that made her so anxious to -meet him! Immortal powers! Love! -love from a girl, pure as innocence itself, -for such an earthly dæmon, a dæmon -both in person and in mind!</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Yet however she may be disposed,” -’twas thus he argued with himself, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span> “too abrupt an appearance, too -hasty a discovery of my views, might -do me a prejudice, and put her too much -upon her guard. When her impatience -is worked up to the highest pitch, I -shall be the more secure of her.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>And therefore he still remained invisible, -and hastened onwards, keeping -still a little way before her; so that -when the fair pilgrim reached the end -of the plantation, and emerged into the -open plain, she descried him crossing -the path at some distance, as if totally -unaware of her approach.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Amabel gave a cry of joy, called him -by his name, and flew to join him.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Is it you, my fair dame?” answered -Wolfenrad. “What would you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>with me?”—and he stopped, as waiting -for her to come up to him.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Oh! tell me! tell me! give me -some tidings of the damsel of Sargans!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“You have been to Engelberg, and -surely must have heard more there, -than I am able to tell you.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Oh! no, no, no! Emmeline! -speak of Emmeline!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Why, the Lady Emmeline.... -Concealment being absolutely necessary.... -But we are close to your jealous -brother’s house, and he may take offence -at our conference—Farewell! I -must find an opportunity of communicating -what I know unobserved, when -I return from Uri.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>“From Uri? Heavens! and when -do you go thither, and how long shall -you remain away?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I set out to-morrow; as to my -stay, I fear the disturbances there will -make my return very distant.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Amabel’s impatience to know something -decisive respecting her friend now -grew beyond all bounds. She entreated -him at least to put it out of doubt that -Emmeline had been saved from the flames, -and hesitated not to follow him into a -bye-path, which conducted to the Castle. -As they passed along, the deceiver began -a long and wonderful narrative of -Emmeline’s adventures, which occupied -his auditor’s whole attention; but as it -contained not one syllable of truth, it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>would be superfluous to relate it -here.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“But one question more!” said -Amabel at length, and stopped. “See! -night is approaching; we are already -at the foot of the Castle-hill, and I have -still a weary way to traverse, ere I can -regain my brother’s cottage, where, I -fear, I must be already missed. You -assure me that Emmeline is safe, and is -concealed in the neighbourhood: Oh! -tell me then <i>where</i> she is concealed, for -my bosom pants to embrace her!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“That were easily done. You see -the Castle is close at hand: thither have -I brought her, and I mean to convey -her with me to Uri to-morrow, since -the disturbances which prevail in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>these parts render them an unsafe -abode.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“To Uri? To-morrow? Cruel, -cruel Wolfenrad! Would you then -have removed her, without suffering me -to see her for one moment?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“How could I have contrived an -interview without betraying the secret? -Had not accident thrown you in my -way, I should not have had an opportunity -of even telling you, that she is -in your neighbourhood. However, as -soon as she was out of the reach of discovery, -you would have received a letter -explaining every thing. I left her -occupied in writing it, and when finished -it was to be delivered to your husband’s -care, who is now with her at the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>Castle, and who has been the chief -means of bringing her hither in safety.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“What say you? My husband? -Is Edmund then with Emmeline? Oh! -lead me to him, dear Wolfenrad, I <i>must</i> -accompany you to the Castle; permit -me to pass this last evening with the dear -lady; or at least suffer me to embrace -her once more, and assure her of my -unchanged affection, and then my husband -can conduct me back to my brother.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Wolfenrad heard this proposal with a -malicious smile, and answered that for -<i>his</i> part he had no objection; but he -suggested his fears, lest her taking such -a step should displease the suspicious -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>Arnold, who surpassed her husband in -jealousy a thousand fold.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Oh! heed not that!” exclaimed -Amabel; “while I am with <i>you</i>, I can -set all suspicions at defiance!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>She said this thoughtlessly, for she -alluded to his age and ugliness. The -miscreant however interpreted it to his -own taste, and saw in it the confirmation -of his insolent hopes. He was on -the point of rewarding the avowal by a -tender pressure of her hand, which perhaps -might have opened her eyes, ere it -was too late: but she prevented him by -making a thousand fond enquiries respecting -her beloved Edmund, which -put him again upon his guard, and -which were not ended till they arrived -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>at the Castle. The gates were closed: -Wolfenrad sounded his horn; the draw-bridge -descended. He entered the -Castle; Amabel followed him, and the -moment that she had passed the threshold, -heard with terror the noise of a -port-cullis falling behind her.</p> - -<p class='c018'>How strange is it, that we should frequently -remain thoroughly blind till we -reach a certain point, and then be rouzed -at once from our delusions by some unimportant -circumstance! Amabel has -frequently told me since, that the sound -of that port-cullis (though nothing unusual -in the Castle) gave her the first -indistinct idea of her imprudence and -the danger of her situation.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Her voice faltered, as she pronounced -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>the names of Edmund and Emmeline, -while she hastily withdrew her hand, -which Wolfenrad had now seized with -an air of impetuous passion. She looked -him anxiously in the face, and her -eyes read with horror in his an expression, -which explained to her the whole -fearful secret.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Yet she was still unwilling to believe -that man so great a villain, whom she -had long believed so much her friend. -It was not till she was convinced, that -neither Edmund nor Emmeline were in -the Castle; that she found herself totally -alone with the wretch, whom she -had despised as being too insignificant -to be dangerous; and that an old woman, -whom (in order to calm the first -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>violence of her feelings) he had produced -to her as his wife, was nothing -more than a domestic; it was not till -then, that she saw the whole business -clearly, and the sight was one of such -danger, that perhaps had she been a -woman of a common mind, it would -have thrown her into such a state of -bodily insensibility, or of mental dejection, -as might effectually have prevented -all endeavours to effect an escape. -But Amabel was a daughter of -Helvetia! that is, she was a woman, -whose powers both of body and mind -existed in their fullest vigour; neither -the first was weakened by luxurious indulgence, -nor the second liable to be -subdued by imaginary terrors. In spite -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>of all that credulity and imprudence -which had betrayed her into her present -danger, her imagination was still both -clear and acute enough to suggest a -means for effecting her rescue, or at -least for gaining time.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She appeared reserved and shy, and -sat down in silence to the voluptuous -entertainment, which was now served -up by Wolfenrad’s confidante; the only -person, whom he suffered to penetrate -into that part of the Castle. Yet did -Amabel contrive to give her silence the -appearance of being preserved much -against her will; she refused not at -Wolfenrad’s request to lay aside the -large hat, which overshadowed her face, -and which (as he complained) concealed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>from him numberless beauties; -nor did she draw away very hastily or -with a look of extreme displeasure her -soft white hand, when he prest it passionately -between his own.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“May I flatter myself,” said the deceived -deceiver, “that Amabel does not -absolutely hate me?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“My religion forbids my hating -any one.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“And you are not very much offended -at my having employed a little -artifice to procure myself the happiness -of this evening?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“—Artifice?—Nay; the effect of accident, -and ... and, I am afraid, my -own inclination was so much on your -side, that....”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>—“My charming Amabel! then I -may hope, that Wolfenrad is not entirely -indifferent to you!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Indifferent? Oh! that you are -not <i>indeed</i>!—And as to hoping ... why, -nobody can prevent your doing that, -you know.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>And with this kind of doubtful and -flattering discourse did she long entertain -the betrayer, and forgot not to fill -the silver bowls from time to time; -though the effects of his frequent -draughts prevented him from observing, -that while she poured wine into his -goblet, nothing but water entered into -her own.</p> - -<p class='c018'>At the expence of a few disgusting -kisses, which were forced from her occasionally, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>she at length had the pleasure -to see Wolfenrad fall senseless from -his chair. It was midnight; the old -woman had long since betaken herself -to rest, and Amabel found herself at liberty -to wander through the vacant -chambers in search of some means of -escape.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Alas! the locks and bars were immoveable, -and no keys were to be -found.—She at length discovered an -unfastened door opening into a balcony; -it overhung the middle court; the -height was fearful; yet would she have -gladly ran the hazard of springing below, -if she had not dreaded the meeting -there with a greater danger, than -that from which she was flying. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>Castle-Garrison occupied this quarter. -She heard from above the conversation, -which passed between the sentinels; -and its nature was such as to leave her -no hope of finding from them protection -or even pity. It also informed her, that -Wolfenrad’s bounty, and his winking at -their committing the most heinous offences, -had united them too closely to -his interests, to admit even a chance of -their acting in opposition to his will.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She wept in agony! She wrung her -hands! At length despair took possession -of her whole soul. She eyed for -a while the torch, which flamed in her -hand, and in a moment of desperate resolution -she determined to set the Castle -on fire; in hopes of either being able to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>effect her escape during the conflagration, -or at least of saving herself by -death from existing for one instant with -dishonour.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Thus resolved, she was on the point -of quitting the balcony when a well-known -name struck her ear. She stopt, -and listened. Two sentinels stood beneath -the balcony, and she heard one -tell the other, that it would be necessary -to wake Wolfenrad; for that he -(the sentinel) was just returned from -the outer wall, and had seen a company -of soldiers crossing over the plain; that -he had hailed one of them, and found -them to be part of those who had accompanied -Bloomberg to Sargans, and that -their leader with the rest of his troops -would follow them before mid-day.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>—“Bloomberg their leader?” said -his companion. “And since when has -the gentle peace-loving Bloomberg turned -soldier, and what has Wolfenrad to -fear from a fellow, who but yesterday -followed the plough?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Faith,” rejoined the first, “this is a -time, when every countryman exchanges -his sickle and ploughshare for a sword -and spear; and I know enough of Edmund -Bloomberg to be convinced, that -the carrying off his pretty wife will -make him rage like a mad bull.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Carrying off, d’ye call it?” said -the other; “I think, she seemed to follow -Wolfenrad of her own accord; and -if Bloomberg draws his sword upon her -account, the more fool Bloomberg!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>A burst of insulting laughter terminated -this conversation, every syllable -of which pierced Amabel to the heart; -and the soldiers separated, having agreed -that it was unnecessary to disturb Wolfenrad -that night, and that the news of -Bloomberg’s return might safely be delayed -till the next morning.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Amabel burst into tears; but she soon -recollected, that she had better occupation -than weeping. A thousand ideas -floated before her mind, inspired by the -distant hope which she derived from the -assurance, that in a few hours her husband -would pass within sight of her -prison. The great object therefore was -to gain time to wait for his arrival with -safety, and find means to inform him of -her confinement in the Castle.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>Accident furnished her with both. -She returned trembling into the apartment, -where the vile Wolfenrad still -lay sleeping, the most odious picture of -intoxication that the eye ever witnessed. -Despair made her snatch a knife from -the table, and she rushed to plunge it -into his heart; but here the softness of -woman’s nature got the better of her -resolution and her vengeance. She -threw down the knife, and hastened -into the balcony, that in the free air -and under the sky thick sown with -stars, she might implore the Creator of -that sky to look down upon and assist -her in this hour of fear and danger. -She rose from prayer much comforted: -she turned towards the East, and looked -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>eagerly for the arrival of the dawn, -whose approach was already announced. -She soon perceived, that the balcony in -which she stood, though much too high -from the ground to admit of her throwing -herself from it without being dashed -to pieces, at least commanded an extensive -view over the surrounding country, -and was admirably calculated for summoning -any passing travellers to her assistance.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Oh! now, would but the sleeping Libertine -doze away the morning, all -might be well! Often did she steal -softly into the chamber to see, whether -he gave any signs of waking; again -the knife attracted her gaze. She seized -it, and concealed it in her bosom, as her -last resource should all others fail.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>It was now broad-day. Wolfenrad -stretched himself, yawned, and opened -his red eye-lids. Amabel fled to a distant -corner, but his voice soon compelled -her to return.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“My charming angel,” said he, -“come near me. You filled my goblet -last night too generously, and this -morning I feel myself still under the influence -of the too potent liquor. Beshrew -me, but I am marvellously indisposed.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Let not that trouble you, my -dear friend,” answered Amabel, while -she advanced a few paces, trembling -with apprehension; “while I resided in -the Castle of Sargans, Count Donat frequently -found himself unwell from a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>similar indulgence in convivial pleasures; -but he soon got the better of his -indisposition by using a warm bath, -which never failed to restore him to -perfect health within an hour. In the -next chamber there is a large brazen -cistern; the water shall be heated for -you without delay, and as soon as your -bath is ready, I will call some of your -attendants to convey you thither.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Without waiting for his answer, she -hastened to her new occupation; she -soon returned with one pitcher of water, -then went back again for another, and -thus contrived to get rid of near an -hour, never failing as she passed the -balcony to cast from it a glance of enquiry, -whether there were yet no signs -of her deliverer.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>It was in vain, that Wolfenrad desired -her to call some of the servants to -spare her this unnecessary labour. -Amabel remonstrated against the impropriety -of suffering herself to be seen by -strangers in his apartment, and at the -same time protested, that she felt the -greatest pleasure in taking this trouble, -since it was for <i>him</i> that she took it. -Wolfenrad knew not how to find terms -sufficiently strong to express his gratitude -for her attention, and protested, -that he had not flattered himself with -the idea of possessing so warm an interest -in her heart.</p> - -<p class='c018'>He was still expatiating on the satisfaction -which this agreeable discovery -gave him, when the sound of trampling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>at a distance struck her hearing. She -looked towards the window, and descried -a cloud of dust. Down fell the -pitcher from her hand.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Your bath is ready!” she said in -a voice scarcely audible from agitation; -and while Wolfenrad staggered into the -adjoining chamber, she hastened into -the balcony. The horsemen came -nearer; she recognized many countenances -well known to her; she recognized -among them that of Edmund -Bloomberg.</p> - -<p class='c018'>His name pronounced in her loudest -tone, the cry of “Help for the Virgin’s -sake!” and her handkerchief waved in -the air towards the horsemen, soon attracted -their attention. With equal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>surprise and terror Bloomberg recognized -his wife at a balcony of the Castle, -heard her implore assistance, and flew -with his brave companions to afford it. -What followed, I shall relate briefly: -the narrative of this adventure may appear -already too circumstantial, since -its connexion with the Sisters of Sargans -is not at present evident; but it -had too material an influence upon the -fate of all Helvetia to admit of my passing -it over with a slight mention.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Before the Castle-Garrison had time -to communicate to their Superior that -intelligence, which they ought to have -conveyed to him the preceding night, -and while all hands were busily employed -in guarding against an attack on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>main-quarter, Bloomberg and his friends -had already forced their way into the -Castle at that neglected side, whence -Amabel had called to them for assistance.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The bath, in which the still half-intoxicated -Wolfenrad hoped to get rid of -the effects of his night’s excess, was -crimsoned with his blood. Amabel again -found herself safe in the hands of her -husband, in whose bosom delight contended -with indignation. The opposition -of the garrison to the complete conquest -of the Castle was but trifling; -and this fortress would certainly have -remained in the hands of the Helvetians -(a circumstance to them of the greatest -advantage) had their numbers been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>strong enough to resist the troops, who -were shortly after sent against them by -the Abbot of St. Gall and other allies -of the governor. Bloomberg’s friends -were inadequate to maintaining the possession -of their conquest, and in a few -days afterwards he was compelled to -evacuate the Castle.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Hitherto, the resentment of the multitude -had been restrained within some -bounds: but Amabel’s adventure and -the death of Wolfenrad were the signal -for open rebellion. The whole country -was floated with blood: would that I -could say, that the blood which flowed -was entirely that of the foes of freedom! -But alas! the number of the oppressors -was too mighty. The Helvetians -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>were over-powered; and after displaying -the sentiments and performing -the actions of heroes, Edmund Bloomberg, -Arnold Melthal, and his venerable -father Henric (to whom patriotism and -his daughter’s injuries had restored -some of his youthful strength) were -constrained to fly from those beloved -unhappy vallies, which once had been -the favourite abodes of freedom and -tranquillity.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The name of “flight” was of itself -offensive to Helvetian candour and courage; -the place to which they were compelled -to address their flight, made it no -less painful than disgraceful. Altdorf, -which was in the jurisdiction of Gessler, -whose tyranny had already been the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>cause of such bitter sufferings to Henric -and Arnold, was the only refuge which -remained to them. By remaining here -quiet and concealed, till time allowed -them to find fresh means of resisting -their enemies, they hoped to escape -Gessler’s notice; and accordingly they -hastened to take shelter at Altdorf, with -the brave William Tell, Bloomberg’s -half-brother: here also they were sure -of a powerful protector in the person of -Walter Forest, a man whose situation -and native greatness of mind struck -awe into the bosom even of the insolent -Gessler.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Here then the fugitives remained -concealed, and nourished hopes of better -times, which perhaps would have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>made even the present chearful, had -not domestic discord obtruded itself -into their little circle. The imprudence -with which Amabel had thrown herself -into the seducer’s snare, in spite of all -his warnings and remonstrances, had -not passed uncensured by her brother. -His bitter reproaches sometimes excited -Edmund’s anger, and sometimes his -jealousy; and the poor girl would have -been absolutely wretched, had not her -father sustained her cause, and had not -her innocence found a most strenuous -advocate in William Tell. It is true, -the language of veracity, in which she -related her unadorned story, was not -to be mistaken; but still it required -Tell’s cool unprejudiced nature, and his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>noble guileless heart, to see every circumstance -in its real colours.</p> - -<p class='c018'>He at length succeeded in restoring -perfect harmony in Bloomberg’s family, -and Amabel blessed him for the second -time as the author of all her earthly happiness. -Perhaps, her entire reconciliation -with her husband was a little forwarded -by Arnold’s absence. This impetuous -young man had been the ring-leader -of those, who at the Easter -feast had insulted the Abbot of St. Gall -by singing the ballad of “Bishop Ulric;” -the Abbot had not forgotten it; -and the unfortunate Arnold at length -fell into one of the many snares, which -had been spread for him by his priestly -foe. Doubtless, he would have fallen a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>victim to the Abbot’s vengeance, had -not Werner Bernsdorf, by means which -it is unnecessary to relate circumstantially, -contrived to release him from his -dungeon, and sheltered him in his own -house.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Though Amabel had received her -husband’s full pardon, still the reconciliation -had taken place too freshly to allow -her as yet to feel quite at her ease: -and now when the news arrived that -her brother (whom she loved most -dearly in spite of his violence) was a -prisoner, she would have had sufficient -reason to be unhappy, even had she not -been tormented by the most cruel anxiety -respecting the fate of the Damsels -of Sargans. She ceased not to make enquiries -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>concerning them; and at length -she received the confirmation of her bitterest -apprehensions. Amalberga was -beyond a doubt totally in Landenberg’s -power, who (in spite of all Wolfenrad’s -assertions to the contrary) kept her -confined in the Castle of Rassburg; nor -was it less certain, that the Lady Emmeline -had perished in the flames of St. -Roswitha’s Sanctuary. Report spread -far and wide many strange anecdotes respecting -that conflagration, which I -shall relate in another place; in truth, -there is no one better able to give an -account of that dreadful incident than -myself.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The tears, which Amabel shed for herself -and for her beloved friends, were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>soon required by a still more painful -cause: misfortunes now awaited her, -which were worthy to be mourned with -tears of blood.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The furious Gessler’s insolence increased -with every succeeding day. -His most earnest care was to discover -those who disapproved of him, that he -might revenge himself by their torments. -At length his pride and folly -grew to such a height, that he fixed the -plumed bonnet (which he usually wore) -upon a lance in the market-place of Altdorf, -and ordered, that all who passed -should bow before it. The sneering -populace obeyed, and contented themselves -with whispering to each other, -that they had much rather pay their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>respect to the empty hat, than the -wicked head which it was accustomed -to decorate: but William Tell and some -few others of the principal inhabitants -passed by the bonnet proudly and with -unbending necks. From that moment -did Gessler mark them down as the future -victims of his revenge and rancour.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Had the tyrant dared to lay violent -hands on Tell, or had he contrived -means of stamping the mark of infamy -on his reputation; had he sold the wife -of his bosom for a slave, or murdered -his infants before his eyes; still would -all these atrocities have been excelled by -that, which now entered his infernal -brain. A prize was to be contended for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>by archers. The sport was interrupted -by the arrival of Gessler. What was -the horror of all who heard him, when -he commanded his guards to seize Tell’s -son, a lovely child but four years old, -and bind him to the tree which had been -selected as a mark for the arrows. He -then declared aloud with the most impious -execrations, that the heads of six -of Tell’s relations (whom he had confined -upon some slight pretences) should -fall before night, unless the father would -engage at a considerable distance to fix -a dart into an apple, which should be -placed on the head of the child.</p> - -<p class='c018'>How did the father burn with secret -indignation, when Gessler dared to lay -before him this unnatural proposal! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>No earthly force could have compelled -him to arm his hand for the performance -of an action so uncertain and so -fearful; yet in fact the bow and arrow -could be scarcely called an uncertain -weapon in the hands of the most dexterous -archer in Helvetia: and after a -few moments past in thought he confidently -accepted a proposal, whose atrocity -(he was certain) was thoroughly -felt by all present; and whose consequence -he trusted would be the kindling -the fire of liberty in every bosom till it -should at length break into open flames, -and the emancipating his country for -ever from its present state of ignominious -bondage.</p> - -<p class='c018'>A glance, more expressing contempt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>than wrath, was darted by Tell’s dark -eyes upon the Governor, as he rocked -himself backwards and forwards upon -his elevated chair of state, and looked -down upon the circle of noble Helvetians, -whom the sports had attracted to -Altdorf, as if they had been creatures of -an inferior kind.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Gessler was too void of sensibility to -understand the meaning of the glance, -which was darted on him by Tell’s -piercing eye. He only smiled contemptuously -at having compelled the pride of -this great mind to stoop itself to his orders, -when he saw him press the lovely -laughing child, his latest-born, to his -heart with passion, and then bear him -in his arms to the tree, where he was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>destined to take his stand. The apple, -which was the nominal mark for that -arrow, whose point Gessler hoped to -see crimsoned with human blood, was -fixed on the child’s head by the hands -of the unhappy father.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Gessler’s attendants prepared to bind -the innocent creature to the tree; but -a spark of paternal spirit already burned -in the soul of the son.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I am an Helvetian!” cried he -with boyish eagerness; “I am not -afraid of death, but of bonds: why, if -my father <i>really</i> wanted to kill me, do -you think I would run away?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>All withdrew from the place, where -Death’s intended victim stood calm and -sweetly-smiling, like a second Isaac. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>multitude, agonized with terror, could -scarcely be heard to breathe: Tell had -already taken his station. All were still, -all dreading, lest the father’s hand, rendered -trembling and uncertain by anxiety -for his darling, should for the first -time miss the mark; when the arrow -whistled through the air, and fixed itself -in the apple just above the crown -of the child’s head, who saw it coming -towards him, and smiled as he marked -its flight.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Now then all rushed, eagerly to learn -the event of this awful scene. Some exclaimed—“He -is fallen! he is fallen!”—But -the boy had only stooped to pick -up the apple which the force of the -blow had struck from his head; and he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>now presented it to his father, who -had flown to embrace his rescued darling -with speed scarce inferior to that of -his arrow.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I was certain, father,” cried the -child, as he hung round the neck of the -breathless Tell, “I was certain, that you -were not <i>really</i> going to kill your own -William!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Kill <i>thee</i>?” exclaimed the father; -“sooner would I have driven the arrow -into my own heart! But eternal curses -and sudden death to him, who would -have made a man the murderer of his -own child! Look!” he continued, -while he clasped the boy to his breast -with one hand, and with the other drew -from his bosom a dart, which he held -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>towards Gessler, “Look, monster! had -the first arrow pierced my son’s breast, -<i>this</i> should have been buried to the very -beard in <i>thine</i>.—For this time thou art -safe; but yet rest thou assured, that at -the last thou shalt not escape unpunished! -Though <i>I</i> may spare thee, Heaven -will <i>not</i>.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Vengeance! vengeance! death -and curses to the tyrant! Eternal destruction -to the infernal Gessler and all -the miscreants who assist him!” thus -exclaimed the multitude with one voice; -while they closed round Tell in order to -conduct him home in safety, and protect -him from the Governor’s guards, -to whom a signal had been given to fall -upon him without delay.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>But the friends of liberty were too -weak in numbers to resist their powerful -oppressors. Before the gallant Tell -had retraced half the way to his cottage, -his companions were dispersed, -and himself delivered into the hands of -his enemy. Gessler commanded, that -he should be bound, thrown into a vessel -which was ready for sailing, and conveyed -to the dungeons of Kussnach, as -a violator of the respect due to imperial -dignity.</p> - -<p class='c018'>No one was suffered to accompany -Tell; but his little son clung to the -bonds which were cutting the flesh of -his father, and cried, that he would -throw himself into the flood, if they -tore him from him. Gessler’s soldiers -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>had no objection to taking two victims -instead of one, and yielded to the child’s -request, whom Amabel followed into -the vessel without being questioned. -The boy was her darling, and it was -she who had conducted him to the fatal -archery, where it was his destiny to -play so principal a part. The cry that -he was safe had rouzed her from the -swoon into which the sight of his danger -had thrown her; and she now -found it impossible to part so soon from -the cherub, whom she had expected -never more to clasp to her bosom but as -a corse. She had also no slight grounds -for apprehending new dangers for the -rescued victim, should she leave him in -the hands of his enemies with no other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>protector than his captive father. Gessler’s -servile ministers could not have -well pitched upon a more skilful or certain -means of inflicting pain on Tell, -than by murdering his son before his -face.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Amabel was aware of this; and dreading -lest this horrible plan of vengeance -should occur to the soldiers, she took -the first opportunity of enticing the -child away from his father, and concealing -him in a dark corner of the vessel. -Here she charged the little William -to remain quiet, and pointing to -Tell, bade him observe how quiet his -father was lying on the floor, his fettered -hands clasped together and raised towards -Heaven, whither his eyes directed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>devout and imploring glances, which -reached the Preserver of innocence -above the clouds.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“What is my father doing?” enquired -the child at length in a whisper.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“He is praying for himself and for -us,” answered Amabel.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Oh! then God will hear him, -and help him; and then you know, we -can creep out, and take away those ugly -cords from his poor bleeding hands.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Amabel replied in the manner, which -she thought most likely to satisfy the -child; and a conversation was carried -on in whispers between her and her -little companion which gradually became -interesting enough to prevent their observing -that a dreadful storm was rising, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>that thick clouds had changed the day -into night, and that the light vessel -was forced far out of its intended -course. The rolling of the thunder, -the frequent flashes of lightning, and -the heavy torrents of rain at length -made both attentive and silent; till -William proposed that he should steal -to his father under covert of the thick -darkness, and spread his little coat over -him, for Tell lay entirely exposed to the -tempest. Amabel burst into tears as -she listened to the kind-hearted boy, -then gave him her own cloak, and bade -him hasten to alleviate the prisoner’s -sufferings.</p> - -<p class='c018'>But Tell showed by no sign, that he -was conscious of this affecting testimony -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>of his child’s care: he remained with -his hands clasped, and his eyes still fixed -upon the heavens. Perhaps, the transactions -of that day had blunted all his -feelings; perhaps, he was revolving -plans of escape, which never fail to occupy -the thoughts of the captive hero, -and whose future execution frequently -prevent his being sensible of the weight -of present calamities.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The tempest continued to rage: with -every moment the danger of the slight -vessel became more imminent. Tell, -Amabel, and the child were now left by -themselves. The other persons were -employed in various quarters, endeavouring -if possible to save the ship, -which was already deprived of sail and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>mast. The prisoners were now the happiest -of the party: they at least rejoiced -in the hope of perishing together. The -child too, who had no clear idea of the -danger, and fancied that everything -went wrong only because his father was -in bonds, ceased not to exert all his -little powers in endeavouring to untye -the cords; but even with Amabel’s assistance -he found the task too difficult -for his strength.</p> - -<p class='c018'>While they were still employed in -this unavailing labour, they heard the -cry of distress increase with tenfold violence: -presently some one on the upper -deck exclaimed—“Now then all is lost! -What winds and waves have failed in -doing, will be done by the hidden rocks -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>which abound upon this coast, and with -which not a soul of us is acquainted. -Oh! what would I now give to be as -good a pilot as Tell, and to possess his -knowledge of these shores!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Amabel started up, and listened with -more attention. She heard the name -of Tell frequently mentioned; and after -a few minutes past in contention, some -of the sailors approached the place, -where she stood by the side of her unfortunate -friend.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Tell,” said the Captain, “you -know, that your life is forfeit to the -law; but if you will engage to conduct -the vessel safe to land, as a favour we -will unbind you, and promise to do our -utmost to obtain a milder sentence for -you from the Emperor’s mercy.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>—“I have saved many a vessel,” answered -Tell, “in a more desperate situation -than the present; and that which -has succeeded with me ten times before, -I trust, will not fail with me now.—As -to what you say about favours, bestow -them on those who ask them; I expect -mercy from no one, save from Him -under whose hand we all now tremble!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Tell was unbound, and the rudder -committed to his care. William and -Amabel still remained close by his side, -while the rest of the ship’s company dispersed -to their several stations.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Tell’s rudder seemed to command the -tempest: he steered confidently through -the foaming waves, and already the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>companions of his danger shouted with -joy at the certainty of their escape.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“And what will be the reward of -our preserver?” asked one of the most -compassionate among Gessler’s soldiers.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“What <i>should</i> it be?” answered -their leader angrily. “The most he -can lay claim to is a speedy death without -being previously tortured; or perhaps -his sentence may be softened into -that of eternal imprisonment.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Tell was silent, and cast a despairing -look through the dark clouds of the -storm towards the Only-one, from -whom he had hopes of assistance!</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Oh! that I had no one here to -tremble for, except myself!” said Tell -to the afflicted Amabel, who knelt beside -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>him after a silence of some minutes—“how -quickly should I be safe from the -malice of my enemies!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“And what then would you -do?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“The rocks are not lofty! One -bold and lucky spring, and I were in -safety!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Throw me into the waves, father!” -cried the boy, “throw me into -the waves, for <i>I</i> am a hindrance to -you!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>At that moment a tremendous flash -of lightning illuminated the whole -scene. Tell descried an immense tree at -a slight distance growing out of a rock -which they were approaching, and extending -its arms far over the foaming -flood—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>“Amabel!” cried Tell, “dare you -seize a bough of that tree as we pass -under it, suffer the bark to be carried -away from you, and cling fast to the -branch, till I have time to come to your -assistance?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I dare! I dare!” cried Amabel -in the tone of desperation—“But the -child! Oh! God! the child!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Be that my care!—Be prepared!—Now -then!” he cried, and was -obeyed. He saw that she had fast hold -of the bough, and in the same moment -he seized the boy with his left arm, -with his right turned the rudder to-wards -the rock, then sprang boldly -from the deck, and left the vessel with -its unthankful freight a prey to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>raging flood. The tempest seized it; -the rudder was broken in the shock, -and dreadful was the shriek of the -crew, as the fury of the winds and -waves drove it far away over the roaring -billows. Tell sprang upon the rock -unhurt; he hastily climbed up the upper -part of the coast, and having placed the -boy on the ground, he flew to give -Amabel his assistance. But she, who -was deficient neither in strength of body -or presence of mind, had already found -means to gain the rock in which the -tree was rooted, had forced her way -through all impediments, and had nearly -reached the loftiest of the broken -cliffs, before he could arrive. He assisted -her to attain the summit, when she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>instantly sank on her knees, and returned -thanks to God with all the joy of one -just rescued from destruction.</p> - -<p class='c018'>But I forget, that Tell and Amabel -are in fact foreign to my story, and I -have already suffered myself to dwell -on their adventures too long, to the -prejudice of my real heroines. I will -therefore pass over in silence the circumstances -which followed their escape -from the vessel, and those which again -threw them into Gessler’s power. Suffice -it to say, that the dart which the -Avenger of human nature seemed to -have reserved for that express purpose, -the dart which Tell had shown Gessler, -in the first burst of his indignation, that -very dart pierced the tyrant’s bosom; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>and thus was Helvetia freed from a -monster, who had laid waste her tranquil -vallies with circumstances of much -greater cruelty, than were ever attributed -to fabled dragons in the Legends -of Romance.</p> - -<p class='c018'>After performing this dangerous act -of justice, Tell betook himself to Stein, -where he intended to take refuge with -Werner Bernsdorf. Here he found new -cause to rejoice at having rid the world -of Gessler. Bernsdorf’s new-raised edifice, -the admiration of the whole country, -lay an heap of ashes! Gessler had -thought it too good for a private man, -and had threatened to pull it down. -Werner laughed at his threats, for it -seemed to be no trifle to destroy the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>property of a man of his consequence, -while living in the midst of a neighbourhood, -where every arm and every heart -were devoted to his service: but he did -not reflect, that villany can find a hundred -secret means for effecting its purposes. -In the depth of the night a fire -broke out, which, from its bursting all -at once from the four corners of the -building, and at a time when all were -buried in sleep, gained ground too rapidly -to admit of its being got under. -Werner and Gertrude saved nothing -from the flames, except their lives. -Every one exclaimed against secret incendiaries, -and no one doubted by whose -orders this shameful action had been -committed: in fact, there were proofs -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>sufficient to make it morally certain, -that the author of this mischief could -be no other than Gessler.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The sight of his friend’s distress (for -this fire had reduced Werner to beggary) -raised Tell’s indignation to the -highest pitch. He left Amabel and his -son to the care of Gertrude, and hastened -with Bernsdorf in disguise back -to Altdorf, to consult with Walter Forest -and Henric Melthal on the best and -speediest means of rescuing Helvetia -from her disgraceful yoke. Arnold -Melthal also, who had but lately escaped -from the dungeons of the Abbot of St. -Gall, increased their band; and the -union of five men so remarkable for -courage and for prudence produced such -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>fortunate and such glorious consequences, -as will immortalize their -names to the latest posterity<a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c019'><sup>[1]</sup></a>.</p> - -<div class='fn'> - -<div class='footnote' id='f1'> -<p class='c020'><span class='label'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. </span>Bernsdorf’s real name was Staufacher.</p> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c018'>Bloomberg hastened to Stein, to rejoice -with his wife at her escape, and to -efface in her embraces the injurious impressions, -to which his too easy heart -had given way during their separation. -Spite and Envy had not neglected the -opportunity of calumniating one of -Amabel’s noblest actions. Her frank -and guileless nature had prevented her -from making it a secret, that the admirable -William Tell had been the first -love of her innocent heart; and her voluntary -forsaking her family, in order -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>that she might share the fate of that gallant -prisoner (a circumstance of which -all Altdorf had been an eye-witness) had -found that misinterpretation, which Calumny -is always so eager to bestow on -those heroic actions, of which she feels -herself incapable.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Fortunately the heart of Edmund -Bloomberg was not more prone to -jealous doubts, than open to conviction. -Nothing more than the sight of his excellent -brother, and the relation of the -true circumstances of the case, was necessary -to make him feel the folly of -suspecting the integrity of such a man. -He requested his lovely wife to forgive -his unjust suspicions; and the temporary -separation of their hearts seemed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>to have renewed his former love with -such violence, that he could not resolve -to tear himself away from her, in spite -of his earnest desire to participate with -his friends in the glorious attempt to -rescue Helvetia from her chains.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Yet was not Edmund entirely idle. -His wife’s anxiety respecting the Damsels -of Sargans had formerly induced -him to make enquiries respecting their -fate; but Wolfenrad (whose sole view -was to remove the husband, in order -that the unprotected wife might fall a -prey during his absence) had taken care -to direct his search, where he well -knew that it must be fruitless. Edmund -at length discovered the trick, and incensed -at having been sent on such a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>wild-goose-chase, he hastened back accompanied -by a band of well-armed -companions, determined to revenge the -insult. His vengeance was complete, -and now at Amabel’s request he again -resumed his search after the Damsels of -Sargans: nor was it long before he ascertained, -that report had said no more -than the truth, when she asserted that -Amalberga was a captive in the dungeons -of Rassburg, and that Emmeline -had really perished among the flames. -To rescue the one and to revenge the -other now formed the only subject of -the conversations, which passed between -Gertrude, Amabel, and her husband.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The more they discussed the circumstances, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>the more dreadful did the fate -of the two sisters appear, and the more -difficult of execution did they find their -plans respecting them. They were conscious, -that without some powerful -supporter, their strength was insufficient -for the undertaking; and Amabel’s -thoughts immediately suggested to -her the names of two young knights, to -whom at a former period the Damsels of -Sargans had been by no means indifferent, -and who (she doubted not) -would still feel so much interest about -them, as to forward her wish to avenge -the death of the one and procure the deliverance -of the other.</p> - -<p class='c018'>On enquiry, it appeared, that but few -hopes could be grounded upon the aid -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>of Count Herman of Werdenberg. -Suspicions, injurious to Emmeline’s character, -had made him resolve to conquer -his passion for her: but to eradicate -her from his heart had not been -found a task so easy, as he imagined; -and at length he had quitted Germany, -tormented by his unsatisfied love, and -by anger at himself for not having succeeded -in overcoming it. He was at -this time in England, whence his relations -had solicited his return most earnestly, -but in vain.</p> - -<p class='c018'>But little as was to be expected from -Count Herman, so much the more was -to be hoped from the noble Eginhart of -Torrenburg, and it was resolved that -Edmund should hasten to him without -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>delay: it was not long before he returned -accompanied by the youthful hero.</p> - -<p class='c018'>There are reasons, which it is unnecessary -to disclose, which make it particularly -painful to me to trace the name -of Torrenburg, and to recollect how -closely his fate is interwoven with that -of Amalberga of Sargans: but it must -be done, and I will not complain. Yes, -there ought to be now no sacrifice too -difficult for my heart to make: there -<i>shall</i> be none!</p> - -<p class='c018'>Eginhart of Torrenburg, who had -formerly been as closely bound to Helen -of Homburg through motives of policy, -as he was now attached by affection and -his own choice to the lovely Amalberga, -was at length free from his engagements -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>to the former, and at liberty to bestow -his hand according to the dictates of his -heart.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen (alas for that poor Helen!) had -been carried off on her bridal-day by -that fierce terrific tyrant, Donat, Count -of Carlsheim and Sargans: force had -compelled her to become his wife! Angels -of innocence, where were you then -lingering, that you gave the unfortunate -no warning-sign of the danger, into -which she was on the brink of falling? -Yet scarcely can I decide, which would -have been the harder fate; to become -the victim of Count Donat, or with a -heart glowing with love to be delivered -into the arms of a husband, whose soul -was in secret devoted to another, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>whose hand was only given to the -wretched Helen from motives of honour -and respect for his plighted word.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Instead of the expected bride, the -news of her being carried off reached -the Castle of Torrenburg, where the -wedding was to have been celebrated. -Though love had no share in -his concern on this occasion, compassion -for the unfortunate girl, and the -insult thus offered to himself, made the -young Count immediately place himself -at the head of his vassals, and hasten to -rescue the intended victim from Donat’s -clutches.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen, who had been compelled to -assent to this unhallowed union at the -Castle of Upper Halbstein, was now ordered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>to follow her unamiable Lord -to another of his fortresses situated -southwards among the Rhœtian Alps. -She received the command with joy, -for at the Castle of Sargans she hoped -at least to receive the consolations of -friendship. Her step-daughters had -been the play-fellows of Helen’s childhood -during several weeks; and since -their separation occasional letters and -messages conveyed by third persons had -frequently assured her, that she still -lived in the remembrances of her early -friends. In their embraces she hoped -to find some alleviation of her sufferings: -she flattered herself also, that the -station which she was now to fill in their -house, would give her frequent opportunities -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>of making the situation of the -poor girls more happy than it had been -hitherto; and this reflexion prevented -her from feeling herself quite miserable.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Cruel fate decreed, that her journey, -which was made in company with her -husband and under the protection of a -numerous retinue, should be interrupted -by the arrival of the Count of Torrenburg -and his forces. It was now, that for the -first time she saw the bridegroom, whom -fortune had destined never to be hers; -for whose character she had ever been -taught to entertain the highest admiration; -and whose sight (for oh! there -never yet was man more formed to captivate -the soul of woman) was sufficient -to make her feel, how near her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>happiness had been, and how completely -it was now lost to her for ever.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Torrenburg’s valour forced Count -Donat to seek his safety in flight, and -the trembling Helen was brought before -the conqueror. Helen (who believed -herself to be no less dear to her destined -bridegroom, than He was dear to -Her) for a few moments forgot her duty; -but melancholy reflexion soon made her -tear herself away from the embraces of -the beloved warrior, and she commanded -him to leave her.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“My rescue comes too late!” she -exclaimed, wringing her hands in agony; -“I am Count Donat’s wife, and -must remain so, though it should break -my heart! Oh! Eginhart, restore me -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>to my husband, and forget the unfortunate, -whom fate has separated from -you for ever.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Tears stood glittering in the warrior’s -eyes. He advanced, as if he would -have detained her, but she peremptorily -forbade his nearer approach. She hastened -to her palfrey, and giving the reins -to the animal, she soon reached the valley, -whither Donat and his vassals had -directed their flight.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen’s conduct on this occasion, -which might well have been termed a -difficult effort, if virtue and duty did -not make every effort easy, was rewarded -by her stern husband with coldness, -with sarcasms, with reproaches. -She arrived at Sargans; and here was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>Helen destined to find the disappointment -of her last poor promised pleasure, -the society of her two friends.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Count Donat held out to her as a -mark of his complaisance and of his -consideration for her happiness, that he -had ordered the only one of his daughters -who remained to him (for the -other had unaccountably disappeared) -to quit the Castle. In vain did Helen -implore him to recall Emmeline of Sargans -from the Sanctuary of St. Roswitha: -he was deaf to her entreaties, and -she was left a prey to solitude and despair.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Nor had the husband, who had -gained her hand by such unworthy -means, reason to be entirely satisfied -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>with his situation. The Counts of Torrenburg, -Mayenfield, and Homburg, -mortally offended at the carrying off of -Helen, like a deluge over-ran with their -forces the territories of Count Donat. -His fortresses were forced and plundered -one after another, and they now advanced -to attack the Castle of Sargans. -But Helen, whose only remaining consolation -was derived from the most punctilious -discharge of her duties, came forth -to throw herself at the feet of her relations; -and she implored for peace so fervently -and so earnestly, and she asserted -with so much solemnity her belief, -that being once become the Count of -Carlsheim’s wife, it was her duty to -live and die with him, (a duty, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>she was resolved to fulfill, whatever -might be the consequences,) that her -intercession was found irresistible. -Dearly was Helen beloved by her parents; -earnestly did they desire her -happiness, which they well knew she -never could find in the arms of Donat: -but it was by themselves, that she had been -taught the merit of sacrificing all other -considerations to that of fulfilling her -duties; how then could they advise her -now to break through the rules, which -they had themselves laid down for her?—Peace -was granted, and granted solely -to Helen’s intercession. The ravisher -was left in possession of his unwilling -bride; and her relations quitted -his territories, having first exacted from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>him the most solemn and dreadful oath -to recompense her for the happy station, -of which he had deprived her, by unchanging -love and never-ceasing anxiety -for her welfare.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Donat took the oath: how he kept -it, is a secret to all save the Almighty -and Helen: but she has sworn in the -presence of God to be silent on this subject, -and she will carry that dreadful secret -with her to the grave unpublished.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She was very—oh! <i>very</i> miserable! -On those days only, when her -stern husband was from home, had she -any gleams of sunshine. On one of -these days an unknown messenger arrived, -and desired to speak with the -Lady Emmeline of Sargans. He was informed, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>that she was not at the Castle, -and he was conducted to Helen. He -brought letters from the Lake of Thun, -which he at length confided to her, -though unwillingly, and only (as he -said) induced by the frank expression -of her countenance.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“But,” said he, “will you deliver -them to the Lady Emmeline with your -own hands?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen, who lived at Sargans almost -in a state of captivity, knew too well -that she was not authorised to give such -a promise, and only answered by a melancholy -shake of the head. Her look, -the suspicious countenances of the attendants, -and the well-known character -of her husband, alarmed the messenger, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>and made him suspect that his -life was in danger: he stole unperceived -to the gate, and hastened away. The -packet was thus left in Helen’s possession. -She knew, that it would be impossible -to deliver it into the hands of -her, for whom it was intended; she -long sought for opportunities of doing -so in vain; and at length ennui, and -her anxiety to obtain some further information -respecting the Sisters, which -might possibly furnish her with the -means of alleviating their cruel destiny, -induced her to open the letters.</p> - -<p class='c018'>They were from Amabel Melthal and -the lost Amalberga. Heavens! what -unexpected discoveries did Helen make -while perusing them; discoveries, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>which had no slight connexion with her -own situation! God be thanked, that -among other things they made it known -to her, that nothing but duty to his parents, -and consideration for his plighted -word, had induced Eginhart of Torrenburg -to offer her his hand, while -every fond sentiment of his heart had -long been Amalberga’s. This discovery -at first wounded her to the very soul; -but after a time she drew from it reasons -for being better satisfied with her -fate, and she resolutely banished the -beloved youth from her memory, in -which till then he had too frequently -occupied a place.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Determined to abstract herself entirely -from every thing which regarded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>herself, Helen now determined to consider -the happiness of her two friends as -her only object in life. She endeavoured -to make herself mistress of every circumstance -belonging to them. Mention -was made in one of Amabel’s letters -of an old maid-servant at Sargans, called -Bertha, who had been Emmeline’s confidante -during the latter days of her -abode at her father’s mansion; and in -hopes of gaining some further information -Helen desired, that Bertha might be -brought before her. She was answered, -that the old woman had been sick for -several weeks, and was now drawing -near her end. To the great astonishment -of the domestics Helen immediately -hastened to Bertha’s chamber, saying, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>that she would go and comfort her -in her last moments.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen had but little time allowed her -to perform this charitable office: yet -that little she employed to the best advantage, -and in return Bertha’s gratitude -rewarded her more amply, than -she had hoped. Bertha, who had fallen -ill soon after Emmeline’s departure, -had only had time to forward the letter -for Amabel; another packet, intended -for the Countess Urania Venosta, was -still in her possession. She gave it to -Helen, and implored her to take care, -that it reached its destination. That -was not in Helen’s power; she kept it -for some time, in constant terror lest -her tyrant husband should discover it, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>and lest it should be the means of -drawing down on herself and Emmeline -fresh anger and increased sufferings. -At length, she resolved at least to put -the contents out of Count Donat’s -power to bury in oblivion: she broke -the seal, and what she read exalted her -impatience to rescue the unfortunate -writer to a degree, that was almost too -strong to admit of concealment.</p> - -<p class='c018'>What Helen suffered at this period is -not to be expressed; perhaps her own -misfortunes had made her still more -compassionate towards those of others, -than it was her nature otherwise to be. -Three objects were now never out of -her thoughts for a moment. The first -was, since the Count of Torrenburg -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>was now lost to her for ever, to make -known to him the present residence of -Amalberga; but how to convey to him -that intelligence, she in vain sought to -discover. The second was, if possible, -to rescue Emmeline from the detested -Convent of St. Roswitha; but alas! -she had but little hopes of delivering -others, while she was herself a captive -in the Castle of Sargans. The last was, -to obtain possession of the key to that -chamber, in which was the secret entrance -to the subterraneous passages -leading to the dwellings of the Anchorets.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The last seemed to afford her the -most probable means of gratifying her -two former wishes; perhaps too, she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>was unconsciously desirous of securing -a means of escaping from the Castle, -should she ever find such a step necessary. -It is at least certain, that in her -eagerness to carry her point, she took -many steps, which prudence would not -justify. Frequently did she repair to -that chamber; she found the door -guarded by seven locks. Frequently in -the dead of the night, when all slept, or -seemed to sleep, did she try the house-keys, -which were in her charge; and -when at length two of the locks shot -back from their fastenings, she sank on -her knees, and thanked Heaven with a -flood of tears. She doubted not, that -the rest of the locks would yield to her -perseverance; but a sudden noise at no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>great distance prevented her from pushing -the attempt farther that night, and -she hastened back to her chamber with -a heart filled with delight and expectation.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Joy, at being so near the accomplishment -of her wishes, prevented her from -sleeping during the remainder of the -night, and she employed the vacant -hours in revolving her future plans.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“If,” said she to herself, after -giving the matter her most serious consideration; -“if I should be so fortunate -as to obtain an entrance into the mysterious -chamber to-morrow night, I will -hasten to the subterraneous passage -without losing a moment. A torch, -and the clear description of the way -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>given in Amalberga’s letter will guide -me to the Hermitage to a certainty, -and I need only use more than ordinary -diligence, in order to be back at the -Castle before day-break; for precious as -liberty appears to me, I will not obtain -it by improper means. I am Donat’s -wife, and privately to withdraw myself -from his protection were to commit an -act of infidelity and treason against my -husband. I will content myself therefore -with relating what I know to the -good hermits, and entreating them to -take the best and speediest means of rescuing -Emmeline from her dangerous -abode, and for placing the fortunate -Amalberga in the arms of Torrenburg!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>On second thoughts, she reflected, -that merely to give this intelligence to -the hermits would not be to do -enough; it would also be necessary to -give some explanation to the Countess -Urania respecting the letters which she -had opened, and by advising Torrenburg -to make Amalberga his wife, to -render it clear to him, that she had herself -forgotten the tyes which once existed -between them. Perhaps too, a -threatening letter to the Abbot of Curwald -(should all other means fail) -might have some weight in inducing -him to surrender Emmeline. In order -that nothing might delay her on the ensuing -night, she rose instantly from -her bed, and began to write. But before -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>her letters were concluded, it was -morning, and her attendants, or rather -her jailors, entered the apartment to -wake her. They exprest no little surprise -at finding her already out of -bed.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I presume, noble Lady,” said -the eldest of them, “either some joyous -foreboding, or some prophetic -dream has roused you from your couch -so early. Our Lord will return to-day; -in truth, we knew this yesterday, but -we kept it to make our morning-greeting -the more welcome, and also through -apprehension lest your joy at this intelligence -should spoil your night’s rest.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen only answered the speaker by -one of those expressive glances, with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>which the open-hearted repay words, -which belie the secret mind. She was well -aware, that her women who had been -so often the witnesses of her sufferings, -could not but know the nature of those -feelings, which Donat’s return was -likely to excite in her bosom. Nor did -she alone tremble in the presence of the -fierce Count of Carlsheim; every creature -that existed in the Castle listened -to his name with terror, and nothing -but irony had dictated this speech of the -insolent Jutta. Yet dared not Helen -find the least fault with any one of her -female attendants, who were chiefly composed -of her husband’s former favourites, -and the meanest of whom had -more influence with him still, than was -allowed to his unhappy wife.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>The news of Donat’s return was soon -confirmed: it was scarcely mid-day, -when she heard the drawbridge resounding -beneath the hasty trampling -of his black steed. She hastened to receive -him at the gate with that smile of -submissive duty, which she had accustomed -herself always to wear in his presence. -He repulsed her offered hand -with a furious look, and shut himself -up in his own chamber with such of his -dependents, as were most in his confidence. -An hour elapsed; his chamber-door -was thrown open, and Donat -rushed out again, to all appearance -more incensed, if possible, than before.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Arm! arm!” cried he with -a voice of thunder, which resounded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>through the whole fortress, and -which soon collected all his soldiers -around him, who, wearied with the -journey from which they were just returned, -were better fitted for repose -than for a second expedition; “to -horse, and away this instant; business -of importance summons us, and which -admits of no delay. Talk not of weariness, -or exhausted strength! the deed, -which now demands your faulchions, -could be executed, if your arms were half -useless; for I lead you not against stout -warriors, but cowardly monks, on -whom I swear to be revenged before -sun-set!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>They were too well accustomed to -obey Count Donat at the first motion -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>of his finger, to make any remonstrances. -In a few minutes all were -mounted, and their horses galloped over -the echoing draw-bridge into the valley -below, whence they disappeared from -the eyes of those, who gazed after them, -with the rapidity of lightning.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The Castle-inhabitants looked on -each other in silent astonishment. -The similarity of their present feelings -produced a kind of confidence -between the Countess and her women; -and one of them confessed to her, her -being almost certain, that she knew the -cause of all this uproar. She would -however only impart thus much of her -knowledge: on his return homewards -the Count had received a letter from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>one who was in the habit of sending -him intelligence, and this letter most -probably contained the spark, which -had kindled such flames in the bosom -of Count Donat; for as soon as he had -read it to his confidents, he tore it in a -thousand pieces, and trampled it under -his feet. Besides this, in the midst of -a torrent of execrations he had been -heard to mention the Abbot of Curwald -and his daughter Emmeline.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Emmeline and the Abbot?” exclaimed -Helen delighted. “Is it possible, -that some benevolent Being should -have opened his eyes to the miseries of -his daughter? Is it to rescue her, that -he departed in such haste? Ah! then -why have I so long delayed to take the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>nearest and surest way for effecting her -deliverance? Had I but confest her -danger to Count Donat.... Surely the -worst of men could not endure, that -his child should be overwhelmed in -shame and ruin! The depravity of the -Nuns of St. Roswitha must have been -concealed from Count Donat, or he -never would have made his daughter a -member of their society!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>These reflections, which were only -half pronounced by Helen, were totally -unintelligible to her attendants, who -continued to discuss what had past, and -to conjecture what was to follow; this -occupied them so entirely, that they -did not perceive, that their mistress had -left them. She had hastened to her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>husband’s chamber, where she hoped -to obtain some insight into the circumstance, -which at once both rejoiced and -alarmed her.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The fragments of the important letter -still lay upon the floor; she eagerly -seized them, and having secured herself -against interruption, put them -again together carefully. She learned -from them the truth of what she had -just been told; the writer warned -Count Donat to beware of the Abbot’s -artifices; discovered to him, that St. -Roswitha’s Sanctuary was little better -than the harem of the Monks of Curwald; -and that by enclosing the Lady -Emmeline within these sacrilegious -walls, he had delivered up his daughter -to the passion of her licentious lover.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>No wonder, that information like -this should have given a deadly wound -to Count Donat’s pride: nor (in spite -of his own excesses) was he so totally -lost to shame as to endure patiently, -that his daughter should become the -prey of a libertine. He was almost -frantic with rage, and for the first time -in his life he drew his sword to punish -the insulters of virtue.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen sank on her knees, and thanked -God for this unexpected accomplishment -of her wishes. She sent a thousand -prayers after her husband for the -good success of his expedition: she -even went so far, as to begin to make -preparations for receiving the rescued -Emmeline, whom in fancy she already -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>prest to her heart; and when this -agreeable occupation was finished, she -turned her thoughts towards guessing -at the benevolent writer of the letter, -which had induced the father to hasten -to preserve his child.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Poor simple Helen! it entered not -into her thoughts (and it was not till -long after, that she made the discovery) -that villainy often performs a seemingly -virtuous action, in order to forward its -own unholy designs. She knew not, -that the author of that letter was Wolfenrad. -It seems, that those oppressors -of Rhœtian and Helvetian liberty, the -lord governors and their assistants, carried -on a very close though secret understanding -with some of the most potent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>noblemen, whose object it was -equally to bring the inhabitants of these -unfortunate countries still more beneath -the yoke, and to build upon their subjection -the fabric of their own power -and grandeur. Among the secret allies -of Gessler and Landenberg, Count -Donat and the Abbot of Curwald were -the most distinguished; and Wolfenrad -on account of his well-known skill -in penmanship was frequently employed -by both the governors to carry on their -correspondence both with Curwald and -Sargans.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Still the fact was, that neither of -these parties meant honestly to each -other. Donat and the Abbot were determined -only to go hand in hand with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>the vice-regents so long, as it suited -their own views; and <i>these</i> on the other -side intended, as soon as they had derived -as much benefit as they could -from the assistance of the Count and his -ecclesiastical ally, to excite a quarrel between -them, and then join with the -one in plundering the other.</p> - -<p class='c018'>We have already seen, how imprudently -Amabel had laid her secrets open -to Wolfenrad. Her letters to Emmeline -passed through his hands, and he -missed not this opportunity to increase -his knowledge of the affairs of the Count -of Carlsheim; and though Emmeline’s -letters to Amabel were not <i>confided</i> to -him, by one artifice or another he had -not failed to obtain a sight of them. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>Bloomberg’s simple wife observed indeed, -that the seal of Emmeline’s -packet had been forced; but she little -guest by whom.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The contents of this letter immediately -furnished him with the most certain -means for producing an irreconcileable -hatred between Count Donat and -the potent Abbot of Curwald. The -power of the latter was beginning to -appear dangerous to the Lord Governors; -but they could expect nothing but -an accession of strength to themselves, -while the Count of Carlsheim and the -Abbot were mutually weakening themselves -in feudal skirmishes. Such was -Wolfenrad’s object in writing this warning-letter, -whose author was loaded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>with blessings by the unsuspicious Helen, -while waiting with a throbbing -heart for the return of her Lord.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The night arrived. She now thought -no longer of attempting to open the -door of the mysterious chamber, which -she had meant to attempt at this hour, -since a principal object of her wish to -visit the Hermitage was already accomplished. -Besides, the design could not -then have been possibly executed, since -every one in the Castle was still awake, -and waiting with impatience for Count -Donat’s return.</p> - -<p class='c018'>It was almost morning, when some -of her attendants rushed with looks of -terror into Helen’s apartment, and entreated -her to ascend the upper platform, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>whence she would discern towards -the west indubitable marks of -some dreadful conflagration.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“God preserve us from some mishap!” -exclaimed Helen, while she followed -her women to the battlements; -the whole quarter of the heavens towards -Curwald seemed one blaze of -red!—“Oh! Donat, Donat, what hast -thou done? Were there no gentler -means?—Emmeline, my poor Emmeline, -where art thou at this moment?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen’s fears were but too well-founded. -Donat, in doing what he -thought it right to do, had done it in -his usual manner. Wolfenrad’s letter -had given him some hints of the midnight -revels, which were frequently carried -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>on between the inhabitants of the -adjacent Convents of Curwald and St. -Roswitha. He made enquiries of the -neighbouring peasants, who were no -friends of these ecclesiastical libertines; -their report confirmed the truth of -Wolfenrad’s assertions; and an old man -(who declared himself particularly well -informed respecting these disgraceful -secrets) added—“that on that very -night there was to be a superb entertainment -given to celebrate the conversion -of a Nun, who was the last admitted.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“You may easily guess, valiant -knight,” continued the old man, “what -they mean by her <i>conversion</i>. I suppose -the lady (I saw her brought into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>Convent myself, and she seemed to be -an angel of innocence and beauty) was -a little violent at first; and so they -have at last succeeded in taming her -stern morality, as many another has -been tamed in the same way before -her.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Good heavens!” exclaimed one -of the least depraved among Count Donat’s -knights; “are such things spoken -of in these parts so openly, and yet is -Justice silent, and does the Bishop of -Coira take no notice of such abominations?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Oh! the Lord have mercy on -me, Sir Knight,” answered the old -man, “such things are not talked of -<i>openly</i>, or so many fathers would not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>plunge their children into yonder abyss -of infamy! I warrant you, the parents -of this converted damsel little thought, -when they sent her to St. Roswitha, that -they were placing the sweet creature in -Satan’s own claws. But when one is -speaking to gallant warriors like yourselves, -who are able, and perhaps willing -to help us, one must be open-hearted. -I see that you are all well-armed, -and yonder tall gentleman with -his eye-brows bent so sternly and his -hands clenched seems to feel for what -we poor country-folks must suffer under -the dominion of these voluptuous -Monks, who make us contribute the -chief part of our hard-earned gains to -the support of their luxury. As to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>Bishop of Coira.... I am afraid, you -are in the right about him! The notice -which <i>he</i> takes.... Aye; were old -Hugo of Werdenberg still bishop indeed.... -But the present Bishop.... -Well! well! he and his boon-companion, -the Abbot of St. Gall, make a pair -of worthies indeed!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>While his knights were carrying on -this discourse with the peasants, their -Lord, whom fury had almost deprived -of his senses, was considering what was -to be done: the resolution which he -took was worthy of his character, was -worthy of no one but himself. Entrance -into either of the two convents -was demanded in vain; every other -proposal which his attendants suggested, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>was rejected as incompetent to effect -his object; at length his commands -were obeyed, and by midnight St. -Roswitha’s Sanctuary was enveloped in -flames. It’s true, that a spark of paternal -love still glimmered in his heart for -the unfortunate Emmeline; but the -idea, that in all probability <i>she</i> also had -been <i>converted</i> after the fashion of the -sisterhood, soon extinguished it, and -he resolved to hide her and his shame -together in the ashes of St. Roswitha. -Impressed with this idea—“Drive them -back into the flames!” roared the inhuman -Donat, whenever either Friar or Nun -tried to rescue themselves from the conflagration, -without deigning to examine -whether Emmeline might not be one of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>those unfortunates. The number of -monks, whom the flames compelled to -attempt their escape from St. Roswitha -at this undue time of night, confirmed -the reports of the mode of life practised -in the convents; and the dresses of the -Nuns, who had been arrayed for the -feast, proclaimed how little their hearts -were estranged from worldly vanities. -The fire continued to spread; it now -caught the adjacent Abbey of Curwald, -and before day-break there remained of -both the Sanctuaries and their infamous -inhabitants nothing but heaps of smoaking -ruins<a id='r2' /><a href='#f2' class='c019'><sup>[2]</sup></a>.</p> - -<div class='fn'> - -<div class='footnote' id='f2'> -<p class='c020'><span class='label'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. </span>Some historians date the burning of Cloister-Curwald -several years later than the period -adopted in this narrative.</p> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>Such was the cause of those flames, -whose reflexion on the sky excited so -much consternation at Sargans: Helen’s -heart had not throbbed with sad forebodings -without necessity. In the -course of the morning Donat returned -home, and returned without Emmeline!</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen flew to meet him, and eagerly -enquired, where was his daughter? -His answer was a short and cold narrative -of the dreadful transaction, which -had just taken place, and the consequence -was, that overpowered with -horror Helen fell senseless at the monster’s -feet. When she recovered, her -first words were to ask, where he had -placed Emmeline, (for she doubted not, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>that previous to firing the Convent he -had provided for his daughter’s safety,) -and unfortunately her question was so -worded, that it betrayed her more intimate -knowledge of the business, than -was by any means suspected by Donat. -This discovery converted his unfeeling -coldness into a degree of fury, -that nearly approached delirium. -He seized her roughly by the arm, -and demanded, in a voice of thunder, -how she came to be so well acquainted -with his affairs? The unfortunate -knew no other way of extricating -herself from this dilemma, than repeating -what she had heard mentioned -by one of her attendants respecting -Wolfenrad’s letter, which (she confest) -had so strongly excited her anxiety -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>about Emmeline, that she had not -scrupled to piece the fragments again -together. The storm of rage was now -diverted from Helen to the woman, who -had given her mistress this intelligence, -and who had it in her power to disclose -much more important secrets, if she -had thought proper.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Incensed at Count Donat’s ill-treatment -of her, for which she considered -herself as indebted to Helen, Jutta resolved -to disclose in her turn all that -she thought most likely to injure her -mistress. Accordingly she began an -accusation, which among a thousand -falsehoods contained some truths, calculated -to make Helen shudder as she -listened to them.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>The Countess (Jutta said) had some -time before received a packet from an -unknown messenger, who afterwards -quitted the Castle with all speed, and -whose arrival she ordered to be concealed -from her husband. She had also -received several letters from the hands -of the dying Bertha; after reading -which she had been frequently seen -loitering about the door of that chamber, -which (on account of the strange -noises frequently heard within) was -supposed to be haunted. Nay, on the -night before last she had actually tried -to force back the locks, but had been -scared away, by hearing Jutta’s rosary -fall on the ground, while she was watching -her Lady’s proceedings concealed behind -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>St. Martin’s statue. She had afterwards -seen through the key-hole the -Countess busily employed in writing, -and during the confusion which followed -Count Donat’s arrival, had found means -to get the letters into her possession; -which to confirm her story Jutta was -now ready to lay before him.</p> - -<p class='c018'>These heavy charges against Helen -failed not to produce the effect intended. -Donat ordered the letters to be -brought immediately: He was no -scholar; yet was he not so totally deficient -in the knowledge of writing, but -that he could clearly decypher the addresses, -which were written in large -characters. His eyes flashed fire, while -he spelt the names of “Eginhart of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>Torrenburg,” “the Abbot of Curwald,” -and “Urania Venosta, the widowed -Countess of Carlsheim and Sargans.” -These directions would have -been sufficient to condemn the poor -Helen, even had she been tried by a -more impartial judge. It was certain, -that these three persons were her husband’s -bitterest enemies; with what -propriety then could she be engaged -in a secret correspondence with -them? In particular, what motive -could she have for writing to the -Count of Torrenburg, who was her -former lover, and had been so long her -destined bridegroom? Alas! poor -Helen! appearances were sorely against -thee! Nor would Donat’s fury give -him time to enquire further into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>business. In a paroxysm of rage he tore -the letters into a thousand fragments, -and pronounced Helen to be in a secret -correspondence with his implacable foe, -the Countess Urania for the purpose -of betraying him to his enemies; he asserted -also, that she had been privy to -the Abbot’s designs upon his daughter, -and had encouraged them in order to be -revenged on the father; and that she -was still in love with the Count of Torrenburg -and meant to have fled to him -from Sargans, an intention which was -sufficiently proved by her midnight efforts -to obtain entrance into that chamber, -which concealed a private outlet -from the Castle. It’s true, that finding -Emmeline had quitted that chamber of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>her own accord, and thinking the -knowledge of the secret passage might -be of use to himself on some future -occasion, the Abbot had not mentioned -to Count Donat his suspicions, that such -a passage existed; and the room had -been merely shut up from the report of -its being haunted. But Wolfenrad had -learned this secret from the perusal of -Amalberga’s letter to Emmeline, and -had communicated it to the Count, -hoping thereby to increase the merit of -his services. Now then Donat had no -doubt, that the noises, which had been -heard in that chamber, proceeded from -no ghosts, but from persons who were -waiting to assist his wife in her projected -flight. Under the influence of these -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>impressions, Helen was held convicted -of the most infamous designs, and condemned -to suffer the most exemplary -chastisement. She was instantly confined -in one of the strongest dungeons, -probably in that where Urania had shed -so many tears; in the mean while her -tyrant with his confidents and those -women of the Castle who were most -her enemies, sat in council to decide, -what punishment would be sufficiently -severe to suit her crime.</p> - -<p class='c018'>I am in doubt as to Donat’s reasons -for not immediately proceeding to the -last extremities with his wife: that sentiment -towards her, which he had -chosen to dignify with the name of -love, had long ago disappeared; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>his late atrocious act, which had proved -the destruction of the whole Orders of -Curwald and St. Roswitha, had left -him no scruples to overcome. One -murder more or less, what did that signify -to a man, who had arrived at so -dreadful a height of guilt?—The most -probable cause for Donat’s moderation -was, <i>fear</i>: Helen was the Count of -Homburg’s daughter; was niece to the -Count of Mayenfield; and had been affianced -to the Count of Torrenburg, -who it was well known, would not suffer -her to be injured with impunity. -These considerations made Donat hesitate, -as to the course which he was now -to pursue.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Donat past two days in resolving, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>whether it would not be possible to -bring Helen to confess herself guilty. -This would justify him in the eyes of -her relations for any severity, which he -might think proper to inflict upon her; -but when he considered his wife’s character, -he saw little prospect of persuading -her to declare herself infamous. -In the mean while Helen was suffered to -remain tranquil in her dungeon; and -her husband was still meditating how to -avoid the vengeance of her friends, -when the Castle was unexpectedly attacked -by enemies incensed upon a different -account. He might indeed have -foreseen, that the Bishop of Coira -would not pass over the destruction of -Cloister-Curwald in silence; occupied -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>however by his anger against Helen, -Donat had bestowed no thought upon -the Bishop; and the avengers of the -Monks of Curwald were at the gates of -Sargans, before any one had even bestowed -a thought on the possibility of -such an attack.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen heard from her prison the noise -of the assault, the shouts of the victors, -and the expiring groans of those who -fell beneath their swords; but her spirit -was too much broken to enable her to -guess at what was passing, or to offer -up prayers or wishes for the success of -either party. She lay almost in a state -of insensibility, when the door of her -dungeon was thrown open. The Count -of Carlsheim entered, snatched her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>rudely from the earth, and more by -gestures than speech, commanded her -attendance. She followed her conductor -in silence, like a lamb to the slaughter; -he saw, that she was scarcely able to -move through weakness, and either out -of compassion or cruelty compelled her -to swallow a cordial. She gradually recovered -herself sufficiently to remark, -that her husband was habited like a -pilgrim on the point of setting out -on some long journey, and that he -guided her towards a part of the Castle -remote from the clamour of the combat. -Here they found a domestic waiting -with a torch, who in a low voice and -with few words assured his Lord, that -the passage was still safe. A door, artfully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>concealed in the wall, was now -unlocked, and Helen was commanded -to ascend the stair-case, which presented -itself before her.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She was too wreak, too hopeless, to -think it worth while to make any reflections -on Donat’s unaccountable conduct -in regaining the upper apartments -of the fortress, (which, she was convinced, -was already in the enemy’s possession,) -instead of employing these precious -moments to effect his escape. -They now arrived at the door of that -chamber, which concealed the entrance -to the subterraneous passages: the -touch of a single key was sufficient to -make all the seven locks fly back. Donat -entered, and compelled his unhappy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>wife to follow him; he then took the -torch from the domestic, and commanded -him to execute his orders without -delay, and then to provide for his -own safety. The servant bowed, and -retired.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Now then Helen was at length in -that very spot, which she had so anxiously -wished to visit, but not with -such a companion. Donat paused for -a moment; and she could hear distinctly, -that the domestic fastened the door -through which she had entered, not -omitting a single lock. Her tyrant -left her no time for reflecting on the -purpose for which she had been conducted -hither; he hastened to unclose -the secret door which led to Urania’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>baths, dragged her through it, and then -commanded her to proceed, having -first taken care to fasten the door after -him.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen obeyed, and as she moved -slowly forwards, through the subterraneous -passages, she observed that her -husband occasionally examined the side-walls -with his hand or foot. At length -he stopped before a small door half sunk -in the ground; he forced it open with -a violence which shook the whole cavern, -and held his torch within, in order -to examine it.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Yes, yes!” said he, “this is it! -Found in good time!—Helen, return! -or canst thou find the way through -these vaults without assistance?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>She dragged her feeble steps towards -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>him: he grasped her arm, and dashed -her with violence down a few steps terminating -in a small cave. She sank -on the ground with a shriek of pain, -which her tyrant answered by a burst -of diabolical laughter.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Here, traitress!” he exclaimed; -“here is the place of your punishment -and your perdition; and here is the last -nourishment, which you shall ever receive -on this side the grave. I give it -not out of compassion, but that you -may not perish in your present state of -stupor, and thus escape the sense of -what I have doomed you to suffer.—Eat! -revive to the full consciousness of -your misery; then die in agony, as -others have died here before you!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>Thus saying, he placed by her side a -loaf of bread and a small flask of water, -which he had brought with him in his -pilgrim’s scrip. She was not in a condition -to make him any answer, and -listened in morbid silence, while he quitted -the cave, flinging the door after him -with violence, and carefully barricading -it on the outside to prevent her escape.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Nothing now animated the frame of -Helen but mere animal life; and even -that was half extinguished by the shock -which she had sustained the day before -and by long abstinence from all nourishment. -She was scarcely conscious of -what had past, and it afterwards cost -her no little difficulty to recall the recollection -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>of it. Instinct made her -seize eagerly the food, of which she -had so long been deprived; and the relief, -which this afforded her, was the -first thing, which brought her to herself, -and gave her spirits to ask the question—“What -has happened to me? -Whither have I been conveyed?”—She -thought, that she must be the sport of -some fantastic vision, and with the sensation -of being totally exhausted she -closed her eyes, and endeavoured to end -her dream.</p> - -<p class='c018'>A violent shock, which made the -hollow ground tremble beneath her, -forced her to start up in terror; and -she now had strength and recollection -sufficient to rush forward a few paces, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>which brought her to the steps, down -which Count Donat had so lately dashed -her. An instant after she was sensible -of a second shock like that of an earthquake, -and which was accompanied by a -noise so loud, that for a few moments -she was completely stunned. On recovering -herself, she was sensible of -a strong current of air blowing into the -cave: her heart beat violently with -hope and fear, while she thought it -possible, that the late earthquake -might have forced the dungeon open. -She hastened up the steps, and with -rapture ascertained by the touch -that the door had been driven from -its fastenings, and that nothing prevented -her from quitting her prison. -With as much speed, as her extreme -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>weakness and the total obscurity would -permit, she hastened to profit by this -interposition of Providence. She crept -along slowly and cautiously, when on -turning a corner she perceived a distant -gleam of light. With increased hopes -she made the best of her way towards -it, and found, that it proceeded from -Count Donat’s torch, as it lay half extinguished -in the rubbish, among which -it had fallen.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Without giving herself time to guess, -what motive could have induced her -husband to throw away his only guide -through the gloom, or how he could -have found his way out of these intricate -passages without its aid, she caught -it eagerly from the ground, cleared the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>wick from the dust with which it was -clogged, and made the flame burn -brightly; while she frequently cast a -look of anxiety round her, lest some -one should be advancing to rob her of -this invaluable prize. This apprehension -made her proceed with still greater -exertion of speed; but she had not gone -far, before her way was barred by large -heaps of stones and earth: she fancied -too, that she heard a faint murmur at -no great distance, like some one groaning. -She stopped; she listened;—it -struck her, that from beneath a pile of -stones, which seemed to have lately -fallen down, there came a voice, whose -accents were familiar to her; but before -she could recover herself from the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>horror, which this idea occasioned her -sufficiently to ascertain the truth of her -suspicions, a third shock, similar to the -two first, but if possible more violent -and terrible, overpowered her faculties -so completely, that she sank upon the -earth, unable to move for several minutes. -Fortunately her torch was not -extinguished by her fall. She rose; the -way, so lately open before her, was -now completely blocked up by the -earth, which had fallen in; and it seemed -to her in the first moments of terror, -that she saw the roof tottering above, -and felt the ground giving way beneath -her. Fear gave her strength, and she -fled hastily down a side passage, which -accident presented to her, nor rested, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>till she thought, that the place, which she -had reached, was not totally unknown -to her. She stopped, and looking down -discovered lying on the earth, torn from -its hinges, and considerably shattered -the low door of that dungeon, which -Donat had destined for her grave.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She now exerted her whole strength -to pass onwards, without falling into an -enormous chasm, which had been formed -by the late convulsion, and which occupied -almost the whole breadth of the -passage. She shuddered, as she remarked, -that the earth had fallen into -the dungeon, and would infallibly have -smothered her, had she remained there -but a few minutes longer.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She reached the opposite side of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>chasm with much difficulty, but unhurt. -She was now certain, that the -Castle was at no great distance: but -she dreaded either to miss the proper -road, or to find it rendered impassable -by earth and rubbish. Should either -happen, she had no alternative left but -perishing of hunger in these frightful -dungeons: nor had she much time left -her for deliberation, since her torch already -began to draw towards its end. -Observing this, she rushed forwards -with desperate resolution, and committed -herself to the guidance of chance. -Accident, or rather a benevolent Providence -directed her footsteps; and she -reached the staircase and Urania’s chamber, -before her strength entirely failed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>her. Here then she rested at length; -but that rest was insensibility.</p> - -<p class='c018'>After some time her recollection returned. -She raised herself, and saw -with surprise, that the chamber, which -Donat to favour his escape had caused -to be fastened so carefully, was filled -with people. She felt, that they conveyed -her to a couch, and rendered her -every possible assistance; and she heard -them make a thousand kind enquiries -respecting her health and her wishes: -but her strength both of mind and body -was so completely exhausted, that she -found it impossible to pronounce a word, -or even make a sign, that she was sensible -of their attentions.</p> - -<p class='c018'>It was pain, which enabled her to give -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>the first token of sensation. Her arms -and bosom were much bruised, and the -blood streamed copiously from a wound -on her head. She has never been able -to recollect, whether she received these -injuries, when Donat threw her down -the dungeon steps, or from her being -struck by the falling stones while making -her escape. The persons, who surrounded -her couch, lost no time in binding -up her wounds, and the pain of this -operation forced from her a feeble cry. -Finding that she was now sensible, they -repeated their enquiries as to what had -happened to her, and how she had been -brought into so terrible a condition. She -stammered out the word “earthquake!” -Where was Count Donat, was the next -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>demand, which she answered by pointing -to the private door conducting to -the vaults.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She was soon removed to a more -quiet chamber, and the care which was -taken of her convinced her, that she -had not fallen into the hands of enemies.</p> - -<p class='c018'>On the fourth day she was already -declared to be convalescent; and it was -announced to her, that the Commander -of the Bishop of Coira’s forces, which -had, conquered the Castle, requested -an audience of her. She consented -to receive him, and shortly after a -young man of prepossessing appearance -entered the room.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Noble Lady,” said he, “though -you are the wife of the cruel owner of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>this fortress, we are well aware, that -you are not a partner in his crimes. -His people are some of them slain; -others have betaken themselves to -flight; and it is in vain, that we have -endeavoured to find the place of his -concealment. Your pointing out the -door into the vaults has not been sufficient; -he cannot have made his escape -through that passage, since the -falling-in of the roof has rendered it impracticable; -and had he in his flight -been overtaken by the vengeance of -Heaven, how could <i>you</i> have avoided -the sharing his fate? Be frank with -us, noble Lady; I conjure you in the -name of humanity, tell us, where he is -concealed, and depend on our dealing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>better with him, than he has been accustomed -to deal with others.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen mustered up all her strength, -and endeavoured to relate the circumstances -of her escape: but anxiety to be -as brief as possible, and her endeavours -to conceal Donat’s ill-usage of her, -(which she thought, duty to her husband -forbade her revealing,) rendered -every thing she said obscure and improbable. -She mentioned the earthquake, -and to prove it showed the -bruises and wounds, which it had occasioned -her. The stranger, however, -assured her, that she must have received -them in some other manner, for that -no one in the Castle had perceived the -slightest symptoms of an earthquake.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>Helen, however, endeavoured to establish -her assertion; and while recalling -the various circumstances which -had passed in the caverns, she suddenly -recollected the groans, which had struck -her hearing. She earnestly entreated, -that the heap of rubbish might be examined; -she was obeyed; the stones -were removed, and beneath them was -discovered the shattered and lifeless -form of the Count of Carlsheim.</p> - -<p class='c018'>It was now the general opinion, that -the violence which Donat had used in -forcing open the dungeon-door, had -shattered the rotten cavern, had made -the supports crack, and had brought -down the roof, whose fall had involved -in it his own destruction.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>Helen’s horror at this discovery, her -urgent entreaties that the corse might -have christian burial, and the many -hours which she past in prayers for the -repose of Donat’s spirit, startled the present -masters of the Castle not a little. -They began to suspect, that she was not -by any means so innocent a creature, -and so unfortunate a victim of conjugal -tyranny, as she had been represented, -and as in truth she was. They therefore -ceased to trouble her with questions, -considering her as the confidante -and accomplice of Count Donat’s -crimes; but as they had no other fault -to lay to her charge, and as the power -of her relations compelled them to -treat her with respect, as soon as she was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>sufficiently recovered, she was removed -to the Convent of Zurich, and left there -with a hint by no means equivocal,—“that -all things considered, she would -do well to pass the remainder of her -days within that sanctuary.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen’s joy at understanding, that she -had been conveyed to Zurich, was indescribable: -she immediately requested to -see the venerable Countess Urania, and -discovered to the patroness of her mother both -herself and all that had happened. -It was now, that her fate seemed disposed -to abate its severity. In an unrestrained -intercourse with this excellent -woman, who received her with open -arms, and to whom she unveiled her -whole heart, she looked forward to a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>life of tranquil happiness. Urania’s -conversation poured balsam into her -wounded soul, and explained to her -many things, which had hitherto appeared -to her unaccountable. Donat’s resolution -to make her his wife was produced -by a former passion, which he had entertained -for her mother, and by a desire -to be revenged on her father, the -Count of Homburg; and that unknown -cavern to which he had conducted her, -was doubtless the same, in which (as it -was reported) the worthy father of -such a son had starved to death two of -the fugitive monks of Curwald. Oh! -Towers of Sargans, what crimes have -been committed within your gloomy -bounds! And will then the vengeance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>of the Eternal Judge sleep for ever? -Will neither the heavens rain down fire -to consume you, nor the earth unclose -to swallow you in its womb, and thus -prevent you from reminding posterity -of those horrible acts, to which you -have been so long a witness?—Yet the -blood of your barbarous master has purified -you, and you are now the abode -of innocence and virtue. Peace, long -peace be with you, and be with your -lawful possessors; and may the curse -of retribution only fall on those, who -shall dare to deprive those possessors of -their right!</p> - -<p class='c018'>Solitude and experience sometimes -endow the soul, which has withdrawn -itself from earth to devote itself to -Heaven, with a prophetic power. Even -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>now I see into futurity! I see, that the -family of Carlsheim and Sargans, which -has already suffered so much, has still -much more to suffer; but again I say it—“Alas -for those, by whom the descendants -of Amalberga and Emmeline -shall be robbed of their lawful inheritance, -and compelled to experience the -calamities of their predecessors.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>I have deviated from my narrative, -to which I now return.—Helen lived -tranquil by Urania’s side, equally unconscious -of the evil reports, which -were circulated respecting her late misfortunes -by her enemies, and of the benevolent -intentions of her powerful -friends. Her parents soon visited her -at Zurich, and now that she was a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>widow, requested her to accept the -hand of her former bridegroom, the -Count of Torrenburg: but Helen knew -but too well, that no Count of Torrenburg -existed for <i>her</i>. She had courageously -torn his image from her -heart; and she avowed to her friends -her knowledge of his passion for Amalberga, -and declared, that to see them -happy in the possession of each other -was now the only wish of her heart.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Helen’s relations listened to this declaration -with no trifling regret: they -would willingly have rewarded her for -her past sufferings by the certainty, that -the remainder of her life would be past -in happiness with one of the noblest of -Helvetian youths. But they had brought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>with them (for the purpose of persuading -Helen to the proposed marriage) -some of Torrenburg’s relations, -to whom his passion for Amalberga -was by no means so unpleasant a subject. -She was now a rich heiress; as Count -Donat’s only surviving daughter, she -was entitled to the extensive domains of -Carlsheim and Sargans, and consequently -she was a much more advantageous -match than Helen. This gave rise to -some disputes between the friends of -the different parties: but the solemn declaration -of Count Donat’s widow, that -she never would lay aside that name, at -length silenced every opposition; and -she obtained from them all a promise, -that they would mutually exert themselves -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>to accomplish the only wish, which -she indulged on this side of the grave; -namely, the union of Eginhart of Torrenburg -with Amalberga of Sargans. -They were informed by her, that according -to Amabel’s letter the lady was -concealed in the Convent of Engelberg, -and thither they hastened to apprize her -of the happiness, which awaited her.</p> - -<p class='c018'>I need not say, that they sought her -there in vain; the Count of Torrenburg’s -endeavours to discover her were also unsuccessful, -till the arrival of Bloomberg, -who assured him, that she must be in -Landenberg’s power, and that the most -likely place to look for her was the Fortress -of Rassburg. The consequence of -this information was a bond of union -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>between Torrenburg and the Friends of -Freedom against Landenberg and his -brother in iniquity, the insolent Gessler; -and the Count immediately accompanied -Bloomberg to Stein, that -he might consult with his new allies -the best means for effecting Landenberg’s -overthrow and Amalberga’s -deliverance.</p> - -<p class='c018'>In the mean while William Tell’s -plan, for throwing off the Governor’s -yoke, and asserting the liberty of his -beloved country, had been gradually -ripening. The impression, which he and -his friends, Walter Forest, Bernsdorf, -and the two Melthals, had made upon -the general mind was great, and their -adherents were numerous; but the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>success of their enterprise still depended -entirely upon its being kept a profound -secret. Those men, whose plans were -soon to burst out into flames terrible as -the explosion of a volcano, and to give -posterity an example of heroic devotion -to the cause of Freedom, were as -yet compelled to work in darkness, and -arrange their vast designs in corners and -by stealth.</p> - -<p class='c018'>It was not till the 28th of December -(being the Festival of St. Alexander) that -they ventured to muster their numbers -in a large meadow near the Lake of the -Four Cantons; this was to be their last -conference, and even this they took the -precaution of holding under covert of -the night. The Count of Torrenburg -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>and Edmund Bloomberg were also present; -but the former by his impatience -had nearly ruined the whole design. -Conscious of his exalted station, and of -the valour of his new allies, he could -not endure the degrading idea of skulking -about in darkness and concealment, -as if he were plotting the execution -of some crime. He insisted upon an instant -declaration of hostility against -Landenberg, and that an attempt to rescue -his beloved should be made without -delay: it was not without difficulty -that William Tell convinced him, how -impossible it would be to rescue Amalberga -any other way than by artifice, -without exposing her to the most imminent -danger; and that he persuaded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>him to wait patiently till St. Sylvester’s -Eve, when (it was determined) the tyrant -should have an open and forcible -attack made upon him; though in making -that attack, there would still be an -absolute necessity for conducting it with -the utmost caution.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Amalberga’s friends had obtained -some intelligence respecting her present -situation. One of Arnold Melthal’s sons, -a spirited lad, equally well adapted to -daring enterprise and the winding -paths of artifice, found means to -enter the Fortress of Rassburg in disguise, -and examine whether any -thing could be attempted towards -the rescue of the lady. During her -abode on the banks of the Lake of Thun, -her sweetness and humility of manners; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>her majestic air accompanied by the -condescension of an angel; the little -difference which she seemed to make -between herself and the girls of the village, -whom she honoured with the -name of her companions; all these together -had made her an universal favourite; -and had not every appearance -of a chain been hateful in the eyes of -the sons of Freedom, it would have -been easy for Amalberga to have established -herself as the queen of one of -the best people that the earth holds, -and to have mounted Helvetia’s throne -by general acclamation.</p> - -<p class='c018'>To an eager desire for rescuing this -adored lady from the power of Landenberg, -was now united the wish to gain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>possession of the strong Castle of Rassburg; -which would secure to Helvetia -the success of all those mighty plans, -whose accomplishment still lay concealed -within the bosom of futurity.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Alwyn, Arnold Melthal’s son, when -he ventured to approach the fortress in -disguise, was not aware, that his was -one of those countenances, which cannot -pass unobserved. Fortunately, the -eyes, whose notice he attracted, were -those of one, by whom features like his -were seldom viewed with displeasure. -Landenberg happened to be absent, and -had left his fair prisoner to the charge -of a female attendant, who had formerly -stood high in his estimation for -the sake of her own beauty, and who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>now preserved her influence with him -by condescending to watch over those, -who were in present possession of that -heart, to which she was herself become -indifferent. Well skilled in manly -beauty, she no sooner saw Alwyn pass -along with a bucket on his head (for he -had obtained entrance into Rassburg -under the disguise of a common water-carrier) -than she was convinced of his -being something better, than his dress -denoted. She accosted, and questioned -him. His affected simplicity could not -deceive her; and he saw himself compelled -either to adopt some artifice, or -to be reduced to that suspicious silence, -which in such a situation would have -been scarcely better than a confession of -the truth.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>—“And so you continue to deny,” -continued the girl, “that there is any -secret reason for a man like you being -here, habited in a manner to which, I am -certain, you have never been accustomed? -Young man, be frank with me! -I should be sorry to give you over to -some other questioner, who might use -rough means to obtain an answer, or to -order that you should be kept in custody, -till the Governor returns. Then -tell me honestly at once, who you are, -and what motive has brought you -hither?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Alwyn during this speech had examined -the countenance of his new acquaintance, -and fancied, that he could -read in it marks of a partiality for him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>by no means doubtful. His resolution -was taken in a moment, and he threw -himself at her feet.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“What brought me hither?” he -exclaimed; “’twas Love, most beautiful -of all earthly creatures! But who I -am.... Ah! shall I dare to avow myself -one of the lowliest among the inhabitants -of yonder valley, and thus make -it certain, that my suit will be rejected, -and myself driven with scorn from the -presence of her whom I adore?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“And who is it that you adore?” -demanded Ursula.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“You, lovely angel! you!” he -exclaimed passionately, while he seized -her hand, and prest upon it a thousand -kisses; “my heart is devoted to you -alone, and your cruelty will kill me!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>The astonished and delighted Ursula -forced herself from his embrace, and -fled; but it was not long before she returned, -anxious to convince herself, -that her half-faded charms had really -made so valuable a conquest. To make -a woman’s vanity believe any thing -flattering, Heaven knows, is no difficult -task; and half an hour was sufficient -to leave her no doubt of her triumph. -She soon grew weary of playing the -prude, and she gave him to understand, -that he would not find her heart -absolutely marble; and thus did the -handsome Alwyn find himself involved -in an amour, at whose termination he -could not guess, and of which, while it -lasted, he thought, that he had but little -reason to be vain.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>At present he reaped no great advantages -from his artifice. It was impossible -to get a sight of Amalberga, or -convey to her a hint, that her friends -in the valley were making preparations -for her rescue. He was also soon compelled -to retire by the return of the -Governor, who was now frequently absent -for days together from Rassburg -on account of the popular disturbances, -and who could only bestow a few isolated -hours on the prosecution of his -suit to the heiress of Sargans. As soon -as the warder’s horn announced the -Governor’s return, Ursula (who trembled, -lest her supposed lover should be -discovered by others, as he had been by -her) requested him to be gone; yet still -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>there was a secret means left for him to -gain entrance into the fortress of the -rock, which (disagreeable as it was) for -Amalberga’s sake and the general advantage, -he did not refuse to employ. -At midnight his doating inamorata -used to let a bucket down through a -chasm in the wall; the rock was steep -and flat; the unwilling Lover was then -drawn up to the top, where he was -obliged to purchase every little scrap of -intelligence, which it was requisite for -him to know, by a thousand lies and -flattering speeches; every one of which, -to an heart filled with Helvetian honesty, -was scarcely less painful than the stab of -a dagger.</p> - -<p class='c018'>He was rewarded, however, for this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>sacrifice by obtaining the important information, -that hitherto Landenberg’s -behaviour towards the Lady of Sargans -had been restrained within the limits of -the most respectful adoration: but that -he had assured her with the most dreadful -imprecations, that a period was -fixed, beyond which he would no longer -submit to be the patient victim of her -severity. The first day of the ensuing -year, he was determined, should make -the cruel beauty completely his by fair -means or by force. This intelligence -induced Alwyn to be more frequent in -his midnight visits; he repeated them, -till every part of the fortress was become -perfectly familiar, and till every -little circumstance had been carefully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>gleaned by him, which might assist his -friends in their design of storming the -fort and rescuing the lovely captive.</p> - -<p class='c018'>By the Festival of St. Sylvester every -necessary preparation was completed; -and all the machines were ready to be -worked at once in various parts of the -country, which might secure the success -of an enterprise, of whose views -the release of an imprisoned damsel -made but a very trifling part—those -views were of the most extensive nature; -yet if the plan had failed, in spite -of the justice of Tell’s cause posterity -would no doubt have branded him with -the name of rebel, and confounded -him with the common herd of unsuccessful -adventurers, who have dared to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>attempt objects beyond their power to -attain. But as his plan was arranged -with the utmost foresight, and its execution -was followed with the most prosperous -issue, after-ages have viewed -his deed with admiration, have reckoned -it as the proudest triumph of the -rights of nature over cruelty and oppression, -and have bestowed on its author -the title of a Hero: so certain is it, -that actions are almost always weighed -according to their result, and the most -impartial judge (without being aware -of it) is frequently induced to decide -unfairly of events, dazzled by the lustre -of the success with which they were -attended.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Had nothing but the Count of Torrenburg’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>inclination been consulted, the -attempt, which was to decide upon his future -happiness or despair, would not -have been deferred till the latest day -possible; neither when it <i>was</i> made, -would so small a number of men have -been employed to carry it into effect. -Perhaps in this respect something would -have been sacrificed in consideration of -the impatience natural to a lover; but -Helvetia’s deliverers were not without a -certain portion of that obstinacy, which -so often accompanies valour and resolution. -Torrenburg’s opinion would -doubtless have had more influence with -them, had he not been a nobleman and -one who was able to bring so powerful -a force either to their aid or against -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>them. They considered the most distant -trace of authority over them with -abhorrence, and were determined, that -every step, which they made in the service -of liberty, should be taken of their -own free will. It was certain, that the -fortress was but ill garrisoned, and that -its security consisted solely in its inaccessible -situation: in spite therefore of -Torrenburg’s entreaties and anger, they -resolved, that no more than one hundred -men should be allotted for this service; -and among these the jealous Helvetians, -who could not endure that any -hands but their own should break their -fetters, would not suffer one of Torrenburg’s -warriors to be introduced. It -was not without some difficulty, that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>the Count obtained permission to accompany -the party himself, and to be -the next to Alwyn Melthal, who should -penetrate into the Castle of Rassburg.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Never did any summer’s day seem so -long to the Count as St. Sylvester’s, -while he waited with impatience for the -departure of light. No sooner was it -dark, than the allies began to assemble -by twos and threes from different quarters. -It was one of the most gloomy -winter nights, that ever favoured a secret -enterprise; and the glimmering -taper, which was the usual signal for -Alwyn to ascend the wall, was not yet -discernible. Midnight was already past; -still there was no token of Ursula’s approach; -when suddenly the trampling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>of horses was heard, and the gleam of -approaching torches showed them a -body of soldiers coming from the Castle -by a path, which was well guarded by -sentinels and provided with several -draw-bridges. Landenberg was at the -head of the troop. Unmoved by her -tears and fainting, he had just informed -Amalberga, that he should return the -next day to hear her final decision; and -he was now bending his course to Sarno, -in order to exact the usual new-year’s -gift from the inhabitants of the -Valley, and hear them renew the oath -of submission to their Leige-Lord, the -Emperor. It was an established custom -of the vice-gerents to receive from the -hands of the vassals on the first day of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>the new year, what little had escaped -their extortion during the old one; in return -for which they never failed to -promise greater indulgence for the future, -nor in spite of that promise to -conduct themselves with increased oppression.</p> - -<p class='c018'>As he journeyed onwards, Landenberg -recapitulated to himself the advantages, -which this year had produced to -him; the quantity of wealth which he -had collected in gold, jewels, and other -valuables; the possession of the lovely -Amalberga, whom he already looked -upon as his own; and above all, the -power of throwing off the wearisome -mask of hypocrisy, which he had at first -been compelled to assume.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>—“As to Gessler’s death,” said he to -himself, “that has rather improved my -situation, than done me any harm. It -has relieved me from the rival of my -greatness, and authorises me to exercise -that severity, which is necessary for -my own views, under the fair-sounding -name of just revenge. These late unavailing -efforts to oppose my will have -convinced me, that I have to do with a -weak, powerless people, who may be -incensed indeed so far as to make some -show of resistance at first, but whom -firmness and chastisement will soon reduce -within the limits of abject submission. -There are not many Tells among -them, God be thanked! He was the -only man whom I feared, and luckily -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>he is either dead, or a voluntary exile in -some distant country; report says the -former; but let him be where he will, -so he be not here to spirit up my slaves -against me with his poisonous influence. -<i>My</i> slaves? Right; they are mine, no -other’s. The ensuing year will, I trust, -make clear to the world, for <i>whom</i> I am -labouring, and whose advantage and -peril are most implicated in the business! -Then when I have attained the -height at which I aim, doubtless my -new dignity being shared with their -adored Amalberga will have no slight -influence in reconciling these people to -my authority; and her popularity will -induce them to protect her husband -against the wrath of the deceived Emperor. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>The precious prize once secure, -I shall then have no need of this assumed -severity; the affection of my subjects -will suffice to preserve them in -obedience; I shall be at liberty to follow -the bent of my inclinations by ruling with -a gentle sway; and all of us will at once -be made happy, Amalberga, myself, and -the country which we govern.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Such was the subject of Landenberg’s -reflections, many of which he occasionally -imparted to some of his confidential -attendants, as he rode along, totally unconscious -of the foes so near him, and -of the danger which threatened the -speedy overthrow of all his ambitious -hopes and projects. Here and there a -sentence or two spoken in a louder -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>voice than ordinary reached the hearing -of the Helvetians, who were concealed -among the various caverns Of the Castle-rock: - and then was many a sword half -drawn from the scabbard to impose -eternal silence upon the insolent boaster. -The vigilance of the prudent chiefs, -however, and consideration for the -public welfare compelled them to repress -their unseasonable zeal. An over-hasty -attack would have been sufficient to ruin -every thing. Landenberg, it’s true, -would probably have perished, but only -to make room for a successor perhaps -even worse than himself. The object -here was not to make away with a single -tyrant; no, it was to throw off a disgraceful -yoke for ever, and to bequeath -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>the precious treasure Liberty to their -children, and to the children of their -children even down to the latest posterity. -Landenberg therefore was suffered -to proceed with his attendants unmolested; -nothing gave them warning of -the danger, which lurked so near, except -now and then a low whispering -noise among the brambles, which made -their hair stand an end, for it was now -the ghostly hour; and as they dreaded -its being something supernatural, the -sound only served to make those who -heard it pursue their course with the -greater speed.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Scarcely had the last horseman disappeared -in the farther part of the Valley, -or rather scarcely had darkness -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>dropt her thick curtain between the enemies; -scarcely had the mountain-echoes -ceased to reverberate the last sound of -the hoofs of their steeds, when Alwyn’s -guiding-star made its appearance: Ursula’s -lamp was seen glimmering on the -battlements above. A few hasty words -were spoken among the confederates respecting -the conduct of the enterprise; -the last directions were given; and -then young Melthal sprang into the -bucket destined to convey him to her -who expected him so impatiently, and -whom he now met for the last time -with expressions of pretended love. It -was no trifling sacrifice, which poor Alwyn -made on this occasion to the general -welfare. To conceal the feelings of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>his honest guileless heart; to dissemble -love for one who was totally indifferent -to him; in many a rude tempestuous -night to encounter dangers, such as nothing -but the most sincere and ardent -passion would have induced any other -man to risk; and then at last to throw -aside the mask, and to hear himself -called a betrayer and a hypocrite, and -called so with justice; this task was a -most painful one, and keenly did Alwyn -feel that his situation was disgraceful. -Yet he thought, that even <i>this</i> sacrifice -was not too much to make for -his native land; and duty and patriotism -made him submit to do that, which -was of all things the most cruel to his -feelings, and repugnant to his nature; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>they made him submit to play the hypocrite.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Silently lamenting the ignominious -character which he was obliged to sustain, -Alwyn followed his supposed mistress -to a retired chamber, where (she -told him) they should be secure from -disturbance till morning; for hitherto -the fear of discovery had only suffered -their interviews to last for a few minutes. -But at the moment when she -expected to receive the kiss of ardent -love, and when she turned to her lover -after having carefully closed the door, -to her utter astonishment a gag was -forced into her half-opened mouth; and -then seizing her arms, her supposed -admirer fastened them with strong -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>cords to the bed-posts. It is true, that -the general safety had been declared to -require the death of this wretched creature; -but the noble heart of Alwyn -revolted at the idea. Even the precautions, -which circumstances now made it -absolutely necessary for him to take, -caused his cheeks to burn with indignation -against himself; he took care to -confine Ursula’s hands in such a way, -that the pressure of the bonds could -give her no pain; nor could he resolve -to leave even a creature, whom in his -heart he despised, a prey to absolute -despair.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Fear nothing, Ursula,” said he -in a gentle voice, while quitting the -room; “every thing shall be explained -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>shortly, and on my soul no harm shall -happen to you”—a promise, which was -religiously fulfilled.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Alwyn now hastened back to the battlements, -and drew up the Count of -Torrenburg in the same manner, by which -he had ascended himself; and anxious -as Eginhart was to fly to Amalberga’s -assistance, still did he not quit his station, -till two more of the confederates -were safely landed on the platform of -the Castle. These in their turn rendered -the same service to their companions, -and a sufficient number were -soon mustered within the wails to authorize -their proceeding to more hazardous -attempts. Half of them seized -the sleeping sentinels, while the rest -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>without noise made the best of their -way to the great gate. They opened -it, and the approach through the rock -was soon made practicable for the remainder -of their friends, whom time -had not permitted to ascend in the -bucket.</p> - -<p class='c018'>No slight expectations had been entertained -by the Helvetians, that this -midnight attack would have made them -masters of Rassburg, without its costing -them a single drop of blood; but -they had miscounted the strength of the -garrison. Sufficient opposition was -made to compel the besiegers to purchase -their conquest dearly. Many a -brave Helvetian bit the dust, and shared -the grave of the enemy, who had just -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>expired at his feet. The dawn of morning -discovered the walls of the Castle of -the Rock dyed with the blood both of -friends and foes. By the time that the -sun was fully risen, the work was completed; -Helvetia’s sons had achieved their -object, and the sheaths once more received -their bloody swords. The chiefs -now employed themselves in giving orders -and making dispositions to preserve their -conquest, while Torrenburg flew to deliver -his Amalberga. He found her in a -stately chamber; she was on her knees -praying for <i>him</i>. The noise of the combat -had roused her from sleep; yet convinced -that her situation could not alter for the -worse, she experienced no alarm for herself, -till as the clash of arms occasionally -drew nearer to her chamber door, she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>heard the name of Torrenburg shouted, -and concluded, that he was among the -combatants: then <i>indeed</i> she trembled, -and sought refuge from her terrors in supplication -to her Patron-Saint. The heart -of the pious girl was full of confidence in -the Divine justice: she doubted not, that -the Ruler of all things had decreed every -thing for the best; she knew, that neither -herself nor Torrenburg had <i>merited</i> to suffer, -and she trusted, that Heaven would -act towards her with gentleness. In her -supplications therefore she rather spoke of -the goodness of Providence, than implored -its help: or if she prayed for any thing, it -was that a speedy stop might be put to -the shedding of blood, of whose flowing -she was but too well convinced by the -clashing of arms, and the dying groans of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>some, who were slaughtered at no great -distance from her chamber.</p> - -<p class='c018'>A long and fearful silence now succeeded. -Suddenly her door was thrown open, -and a knight in complete armour entered -the room. He hastened towards her, -raised his visor, and well did she recollect -the noble countenance of him, whose -portrait was engraved on her heart in characters -indelible: but she recollected also -his engagements to Helen; she was conscious -of her danger and the weakness of -her heart, and attempted to force away -the hand, which he had seized, and prest -to his lips with passion. It was long, before -she recovered from her surprise and -confusion sufficiently to comprehend the -whole extent of those delightful views, -which were now presented before her by -indulgent Fortune.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>A Nun is but a sorry describer of love-scenes; -and she, who traces this narrative, -though she may not perhaps have always -been a stranger to tender sentiments, still -is unwilling to dwell longer than is necessary -upon those, which filled the heart of -the happy Amalberga, when she sank into -her lover’s arms, and murmured—“Torrenburg, -I am thine!”—I have since been -assured, that in these first moments of -rapture the name of Helen was not forgotten. -In truth some trifling recollection, -some little portion of gratitude at least -was due to the unfortunate, who to procure -the happiness of Amalberga and Torrenburg -had not hesitated to immolate her -own. The sacrifice was indeed a most -difficult and painful one; but never did -Helen once regret, that she had made it.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>While the lovers forgot every thing in -the contemplation of those flattering prospects, -which futurity showed them on all -sides; and while the Helvetians were employed -in taking every possible precaution, -that might preserve to them the Fortress, -of which they had so valiantly obtained -possession; the other Patriots (as had been -previously arranged) were carrying their -glorious designs into execution in different -parts of the country.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Peregrine of Landenberg had reached -Castle-Sarno before day-break. He slept -for a few hours, and then rose to welcome -the day, which, he was determined, should -see him the husband of the Heiress of Sargans. -He had commanded, that towards -evening a strong guard should conduct her -thither from Rassburg, when a Friar, belonging -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>to the Abbot of St. Gall, and -who was entirely devoted to the Governor, -had engaged to perform the marriage ceremony -between them: whether with her -consent, or without it, the good father -cared but little.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Anxious to give as creditable an appearance -as possible to this most important -transaction of his life, Landenberg thought -it best for the general edification to open -the day’s business by walking in solemn -procession to the neighbouring church. -For this purpose he was already descending -the great staircase accompanied by a -numerous train of courtiers, when he was -informed, that the inhabitants of the adjacent -districts had assembled in the valley -below, each bringing the accustomed -New-year’s offering.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>Landenberg had great confidence in -omens; he looked upon it as a pledge of -future good fortune, that before he had -set his foot without the Castle-walls, his -course was impeded by presents. The -procession to the church was deferred for -awhile: part of his attendants were sent to -take charge of the gifts, which had been -brought to him; of the fatted oxen, the -corn, the fruit, the cloth woven by the -skilful hands of the industrious Helvetian -housewives; the casks of wine; and here -and there a few bags of coin, which were -not the least welcome part of the offerings. -In the mean while the Governor -himself remained in the front-court, attended -by a few of his most confidential -attendants, and prepared for the reception -of “the slaves of his servants,” as it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>was usual for him to term the brave Helvetians.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The deputation arrived. It consisted of -fifty persons, with Henric Melthal at their -head, Henric, on whose locks eighty winters -had now shed their snows.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Lord Governor,” said the venerable -man, approaching Landenberg, “the -old year expired yesterday; the new one -begins to-day. How you have sustained -the character of Imperial Majesty among -the opprest children of a free-born nation, -that is <i>your</i> affair. How we begin the new, -is <i>our’s</i>! Be God the judge between you -and us, Peregrine of Landenberg; God, -who has already judged Gessler, as he will -judge you! But as for you, my sons, do -as ye see me do, nor hesitate to lay down -your lives in the cause of liberty and justice.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>It is inconceivable to me, how the daring -old man was suffered to proceed so far -in his speech. The Almighty must have -struck a panic into the tyrant and his -base dependents; but now recovering -themselves, they hastily drew their side-weapons, -which (from being rather intended -for ornament than use, and able to -do but little injury) were generally called -“holy-swords.” Some, who were unprovided -with even these weak instruments, -hastened into the Castle in search -of arms; in the mean while old Melthal -and his trusty companions had drawn concealed -pike-heads from under their cloaks, -which they fixed dexterously and with -promptitude on the tops of their long -white staves; and now was the signal -given for beginning a massacre, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>once commenced was not concluded hastily. -Among the first who fell was the Governor. -The feeble arm of Henric Melthal, -strengthened by Heaven and the justice -of his cause, gave the decisive blow; -and Edmund Bloomberg hastened to extricate -his father-in-law from the crowd of -those, who (now that they were recovered -from their first consternation) prest on -him to destroy the slayer of their chief. -Landenberg cursed his fate, that he should -fall so disgracefully by the arm of a dotard, -and poured out his last breath in execrations. -The combat became general. The -Friends of Liberty were attacked by the -Governor’s remaining attendants, who -were now better armed; but this opposition -was not of much avail, since at a -given signal a second party of Helvetians, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>who were in waiting on the outside of -the Castle, hastened to support their confederates.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The superiority of numbers being now -on their side, the conquerors proclaimed -quarter in the name of Henric Melthal. -The loss of their chief had deprived the -scanty band of his adherents of all their -courage: they were glad to sheathe their -weapons, and the conquering Helvetians -took them under their protection, and -conducted them uninjured to the boundaries. -The gallant men were unwilling to -stain their native soil with blood shed unnecessarily, -and doubted not, that such a -barbarous measure would have induced -the Almighty to withdraw his blessing -from their enterprise. They lost no time -in taking measures for maintaining themselves -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>in the possession of Castle-Sarno. -Towards evening intelligence arrived, that -Rassburg also had been attacked with success, -and during the three or four succeeding -days similar tidings were received -from other parts of the country: Schwannau, -Kussnach, Zinguri (which was not -yet finished) and many other places of importance, -had been wrested from the -hands of Helvetia’s tyrants. Such universal -success testified, that the arm of the -Protector of innocence had fought in their -cause; and they thought, the best means -of showing their gratitude for such powerful -aid to him, who detests unnecessary -bloodshed, was to use their victory with -mildness and moderation. They had expelled -their enemies, and reinstated themselves -in their natural rights: more they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>sought not, more they desired not; and -it was this laudable moderation, which, by -preventing them from aiming to obtain -further advantages, enabled them to secure, -what they had won already.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Peace after so long an absence returned -once more to these happy vallies; and a -firm fraternal union for offence and defence -was established, which I pray, that -God may grant to last, as long as the -world exists.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Has not the ignorant Nun suffered herself -to be enticed out of her proper sphere, -while she described scenes of war and the -efforts of Liberty? She, a weak defenceless -woman, a slave bound in lasting fetters? -Yet Heaven be thanked for it, -those fetters are light: pious submission -enables me to bear them, and they will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>ere long be loosened by the hand of -Death.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Count Donat’s widow lived in tranquil -seclusion at Zurich in the society of the -Countess Urania; and their prayers were -frequently offered up for the success of the -honest Helvetians. They rejoiced to hear -of their victories, of Amalberga’s rescue, -and of her union with the Count of Torrenburg. -But Helen did not wish to be herself -a spectatress of their felicity; nor -(when shortly after their marriage the -happy pair visited her to express their -mutual gratitude) could she be prevailed -upon to pass more than one hour in their -society; and many, many of the succeeding -days were for her days of anguish. -Poor Helen was but a weak mortal, no -saint, no angel: and alas! to <i>forget</i> is a -task not so easy, as some may think!</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>Yet in recompence for her past sorrows -Heaven had still reserved one pleasure for -her future life. Oh! Blessed Virgin, what a -pleasure was that! what a surprise! what -an unexpected re-union!—But let me proceed -regularly.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The good Domina of Zurich was dead; -the Princess Euphemia had already been -appointed Abbess of Tull, and therefore -could not accept the vacant dignity. No -persuasion could induce Urania, at her advanced -age, to fill so laborious a situation, -and the lot now fell upon Count Donat’s -widow. She obeyed the general voice, -and was well-pleased to have a means for -exerting benevolence in a more extended -circle. She became (what I say of her -ought not to be counted to her as a merit, -since she did but her duty) she became -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>the mother of the opprest; and the man, -who intrusted to her a daughter, a sister, -or a mistress, knew, that she could be no -where safer than in her arms. This was -universally known; and many a knight, -before he set out on some distant expedition, -secured under her protection those -treasures, which he valued dearer than all -others, which the world contained.</p> - -<p class='c018'>One day a knight requested an audience -of her: as soon as she saw him, it -struck her, that his features were not altogether -unknown to her.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Sir Knight,” said she, “it appears -to me, that we have met before.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“You say truly, holy mother,” -answered he; “it was I, who by the -Bishop of Coira’s command took the Castle -of Sargans by storm, and afterwards conducted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>you to this Convent. Methinks, -you placed but little confidence in me on -that occasion, though perhaps it would -have been for your advantage, had you -shown more: but its true, you knew not -my name; knew not, that never had any -one reason to repent the trust, which he -reposed in Herman of Werdenberg. I -will not follow your example; I am now -preparing to reveal to you my dearest secrets, -and solicit you to become the -guardian of my most precious treasure. -Grief of heart some time ago drove me -from my native land: my uncle’s death -necessitated my return; and being once -more in Germany, I suffered myself to be -persuaded to remain there: nay, under a -borrowed name I consented to act as the -knight-protector of the new Bishop’s subjects, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>and to become the assertor of his -rights and privileges.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“It was in this capacity, that I became -acquainted with you, Lady, in the Castle -of Sargans: report, and mysterious circumstances -respecting your conduct, I -confess, had not prejudiced me in your favour; -and perhaps I did not treat you -with so much respect and attention, as (I -am now well convinced) was justly due to -your merits. After escorting you hither, -I returned to Sargans, being commissioned -to defend the Castle against Landenberg -and his associates, in the name of -Count Donat’s daughters; whom the Bishop -had adopted as his wards, and whom -he publicly declared his intention of reinstating -in their rights, as soon as the -place of their concealment could be ascertained. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>It seems, the rebellious Landenberg -thought, that this was the fit time for -making himself master of all Rhœtia, -while the Ten Jurisdictions were torn to -pieces by the tumults and confusion, to -which his artifices had given rise; but report -must have already informed you, -how soon those vain hopes were crushed -by the noble efforts of the assertors of -Liberty.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“In order that I might not be quite idle -during my undisturbed residence at Sargans, -the Bishop (who has no antipathy -to gold) commissioned me to enquire into -the truth of an old tradition very current -among the people, that immense treasures -lie buried in the foundation of that antient -fortress. Upon asking some questions, -I was conducted to an old and ruined -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>well in a remote court, and assured -that it contained wealth inexhaustible. -The Bishop on this report desired me to -cause the well to be cleared out; but its -contents furnished nothing but venomous -reptiles, filth, and some human bones, the -melancholy memorials of former cruelties, -whose commission Heaven no doubt had -long since punished.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Other places were afterwards pointed -out to me as the repository of this buried -wealth; but no better success attended -their examination. At length I resolved -to set my workmen to clear out that subterraneous -passage, the falling-in of whose -roof had so nearly proved your destruction. -It seemed to me much more probable, -that I should find here that of which I was -in search, than in those places which I had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>already examined; but it was my full determination, -in case of discovering the supposed -treasures, not to give them up to the -Bishop, but to reserve them for the heiress -of Carlsheim and Sargans, who had -lately been rescued from Landenberg’s -power, and was now Countess of Torrenburg. -It was however less my object to -find wealth which I despised, than to furnish -my followers with a harmless occupation, -and by restoring the concealed passage -(which in our turbulent times is absolutely -necessary in every fortress) to render -a trifling service to posterity. The -work was difficult and tedious; however, -I was just rejoicing in the reflection, that a -few days would suffice to finish it, when -the Bishop of Coira found it impossible to -delay any longer with common decency -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>the restoring of Sargans to the -Countess Amalberga and her husband. -One branch of the passage alone remained -in ruins, and I would gladly have completed -my task; but Count Eginhart was -already at the gates of Sargans. I hastened -to deliver up every thing, which had -been committed to my custody, and we -renewed our former friendship; a friendship, -which in the earlier part of our lives -had been most intimate.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“It was my intention to request his -permission to finish the repairs of the subterraneous -caverns: unluckily, as we sat -conversing together, and recalling the -events of former days over our flowing -goblets, he mentioned the sister of his -bride, who had once made upon my heart -a very forcible impression; but my passion -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>was not strong enough to make me -consent to commit my honour to the -keeping of a daughter of Count Donat. -The Count painted in glowing colours the -happiness, which he enjoyed with Amalberga; -and he finally accused me of having -treated the Lady Emmeline unworthily, -and of having driven her into the jaws -of perdition by my rigour and contempt. -As her relations have always wrapt in mystery -the latter scenes of Emmeline’s life, -I am even at this moment ignorant, as to -what is become of Her, who was once so -dear to me; nor could I understand, to -what the Count alluded in the conclusion -of his speech. I could not, however, allow, -that I had acted by her with injustice, -and asserted, with that warmth which -is natural to me, that no man of prudence -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>and honour would have acted otherwise. -Our conversation grew bitter; and at -length we parted in such anger, that it was -impossible for me to submit to asking of -him as a favour, that I might prosecute -my subterraneous labours.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Perhaps you will be surprised at my -being so anxious about such a trifle, as the -repairs of these vaults; I must therefore -confess to you, that the real motive of my -wish to examine this passage thoroughly, -was nothing more than a dream; but that -dream was in truth a very remarkable -one.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“The first time that I broke a lance at -a public tournament, it was my fortune to -obtain the prize, a ring apparently of considerable -value. I was pleased both with the -jewel, and with the manner in which I obtained -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>it, and never failed to wear it on -all solemn festivals; till a person well skilled -in precious stones convinced me, that -the diamond was false and the ring itself -scarcely worth three golden shields<a id='r3' /><a href='#f3' class='c019'><sup>[3]</sup></a>. Incensed -at having been so grossly imposed -upon, I snatched it from my finger, and -threw it over the battlements: the circumstance -of its having been the reward -of my address soon made me wish to recover -it; but though my squire was immediately -dispatched, he returned without -having been able to find it. I had quite forgotten -this ring and all its circumstances; -but on both the two nights preceding Torrenburg’s -entry into the Castle of Sargans, -I dreamt, that in traversing the subterraneous -passage I found my lost ring, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>that the false stone was changed into a diamond, -which illuminated the whole cavern -with its radiance.</p> - -<div class='fn'> - -<div class='footnote' id='f3'> -<p class='c020'><span class='label'><a href='#r3'>3</a>. </span>A coin so called, from its bearing a shield imprest upon it.</p> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c018'>“I cannot account for the strong impression, -which this dream made upon -my fancy; yet (Heaven knows!) I set -but little store upon the treasures -of this world, and were I possest of -all the diamonds which the earth contains, -I should only employ them to adorn our -Redeemer’s cross; that cross, which it is -my firm resolution to wear in future -against the Saracens, and other enemies of -our holy religion. Yet in spite of this -contempt of wealth, and of the little faith -which I put in omens, the repetition of -this dream struck my imagination so forcibly, -that I could not rest without ascertaining, -whether the vaults did really contain -the ring, which I had so long lost.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>“My disagreement with Torrenburg had -made it impossible for me to satisfy my -doubts by means of the Castle-entrance: -but I thought it by no means unlikely, -that there might be some communication -between the passage and the ruined Abbey -of Curwald, which was situated at no -great distance, and was just beginning to -be rebuilt.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“I was well acquainted with Father -John; a worthy man, who had lately been -appointed the Superior of those few -Monks, who had escaped from Count -Donat’s barbarity. He readily acceded to -my request, and I immediately began my -work.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“For several days the ruins were examined -without success: yet the assurance -of one of the elder Monks, that he remembered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>having heard (but merely as a tradition) -that a private communication had -formerly existed between the Convent and -Sargans, made me unwilling to give up the -pursuit. It was frequently my custom -after dismissing my labourers (wearied -with their fruitless endeavours to discover -that, which they were firmly persuaded -had no existence) to wander by myself, -and mark the melancholy contrast made -by the slowly-rising walls of the new building, -with the ruins of the old one which -had not yet been removed. The vaults -beneath the Convent being generally the -scene of our enquiries, as affording us the -best chance for finding the so much wished-for -passage, I frequently loitered here -alone, after my workmen had left me for -the evening, A fixed melancholy had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>taken possession of my soul: in truth, it -could not well be otherwise, surrounded as -I was on all sides by memorials of mortality, -and the marks of celestial judgments!</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Where,” said I often to myself, -“where are now the voluptuous pleasures -of the Monks of Curwald? where the -pride and power of the tyrants of Carlsheim -and Sargans? The grave has swallowed -them all; nothing remains of them, -but the memory of their crimes and the -detestation of posterity!—Herman, still -preserve in your heart unshaken the love -of virtue, and not less the hatred of vice: -be at once the terror of the profligate and -the friend of the innocent and the helpless. -Bring equally before the world’s eye -the rights of the opprest and the crimes -of the oppressor, and unite in one person -the protecting and the avenging angel.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>“These ideas prest themselves upon my -mind with more than ordinary force, as I -sat one evening in one of the Convent-vaults -upon a heap of stones. It was in -the vault nearest to those of Sargans; and -despairing of finding the old secret communication, -I had at length resolved to -employ my workmen in digging out a -new one. They had already commenced -their labours, and were retired after making -no inconsiderable progress. The hour -was late; darkness had closed round me, -but an iron lamp was fixed against the -wall and guided my steps, as I slowly traversed -to and fro this abode of religious -melancholy. The scene was congenial to -the state of my feelings; I consecrated it -to secret sorrow; and here it was that I -offered up my prayers for the future, here -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>it was that I poured forth my tears, while -dwelling upon the past. Yes, holy Mother, -my <i>tears</i>! The stern and haughty -Herman of Werdenberg has wept frequently; -has wept, when if any eye had -witnessed the drops, his cheek would have -blushed with shame at the unworthy cause -of his sorrow; to <i>you</i> alone, to the ear of -indulgent pity, he scruples not to disclose -the secret of his weakness.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Lady, my tears streamed for having -formed an early attachment for -one, who deserved not my affection. I -once adored Emmeline of Sargans; but I -tore her from my heart, convinced that it -was impossible for <i>her</i> to be virtuous, who -had been educated in the very lap of vice. -Yet Amalberga, Emmeline’s sister, and -who had been educated with her, was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>modest, pure, and irreproachable; then -why not Emmeline? What had since -happened to that unfortunate was unknown -to me; and my disagreement with -her brother-in-law prevented my obtaining -that information from him, which I -was now most anxious to obtain; for one -of his expressions had cut me to the very -soul, and I strove in vain to banish it -from my memory. He told me, -“that my rigour had driven Emmeline -into the jaws of perdition;” and while his -words lay heavy upon my heart, I could -not but own, that it was possible for his -accusation to be well-founded. An union -with an honest man, such as Herman of -Werdenberg boasts himself to be, would -have been the best and most certain means -of rescuing her from the power of her licentious -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>father and the contagion of his -example. Yet what could I do? Say, -that I was mistaken in my judgment of -Emmeline; still was it incumbent on me -to run so great a risque to preserve her, as -to entrust the care of my honour to one, -who I feared would prove a wanton?</p> - -<p class='c018'>“But at all events, these considerations -came too late. Nothing was now left for me -but to banish recollections which, (Heaven -only knows, why) intruded themselves upon -me so forcibly, and which certainly were -the most absurd and fruitless, with which -I could have employed my mind. Yet still -they <i>did</i> employ it in spite of all my efforts, -as I sat with my eyes sometimes -fixed on the dark vaults which frowned -above me, sometimes on the glimmerings -of the distant lamp, without being conscious -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>what it was, at which I was gazing. -At length incensed at my own folly I -started from my seat, and was quitting the -vault abruptly, when a faint murmur -struck my hearing.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“I stopped. It was not the first time, -that I had heard something like a groan, -while traversing these vaults; but I had -always supposed the noise to be occasioned -by the wind, or else to be the echo of -my own heart-drawn sighs. But now it -was not only more loud and more distinct, -but I almost fancied, that it was followed -by sounds resembling words spoken by -one in agony.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“I hastened back to the place, which I -had just quitted. I shouted, to observe -whether an echo would answer me, but -all was silent.—I removed to a distance; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>I came back again; I placed my head -against the wall of the cavern; I knelt, -and laid my ear to the ground; I heard -the noise again. I endeavoured to trace -it; still it continued, sometimes louder, -sometimes weaker; till at length it conducted -me to a small iron grating inserted -in the ground, and from whence the wind, -which blew upon me, seemed to be more -heavy and chilling, than that which I -breathed in the vaults above.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“And through this opening did a voice -now reach me, whose melancholy tones -seemed those of a female! It sounded so -audibly, that all my doubts vanished at -once, and all my sensations resolved themselves -into the single eager enquiry—‘By -what means I could assist the sufferer?’—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Are you then come at last?” answered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>the voice; “but speak louder, -for I cannot understand what you say!—My -senses are so confused ... and my -brain seems to whirl round and round so -rapidly!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“I repeated my enquiries, but with no -better effect.”</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I hear the sound of your voice, but -not your words,” answered the captive; -“and weakness prevents my dragging myself -nearer to the grate—Do you bring me -food?—Alas! it is so long since you last -visited me!—I was afraid, that you had -died suddenly—Afraid, did I say?—Oh! -Heaven, who would have suspected, that -I should ever have dreaded Luprian’s -death!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“These words were pronounced slowly, -and in broken sentences. I now stretched -my voice to its utmost extent, and dwelt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>with peculiar emphasis on the words -“Help” and “Liberty.”</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Liberty?” she repeated; “no, -Luprian; at your price it would be too -dearly purchased. Urge me no more to -be the partner of your flight: could I -have ever stooped to disgrace, I need not -have languished so long in this dreary -dungeon. If I have no choice left but -death or infamy, I prefer the former; -leave me, and let me die!—And yet.... -Oh! God in Heaven! To part with even -the most miserable existence is so bitter.... -Oh! it is still so bitter!”</p> - -<p class='c018'>“I saw, that it would be vain for me to -labour any more at making myself understood; -and the faint tone, in which these -last words were uttered, alarmed me. Yet -I spoke once again, but no answer was returned; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>I doubted not, that the unfortunate -had fainted.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“How I might effect her delivery with -the utmost celerity, I knew not; yet in -my anguish and uncertainty I accidentally -struck upon that, which was most prudent: -I hastened to the small temporary -building inhabited by Abbot John and his -Monks; I related in a few words what had -happened, and requested their advice.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“The Fraternity one and all hastened -with me to the vault, every one bearing a -mattock, a pick-axe, or some such instrument. -They were holy benevolent men, -resembling the original founders of their -Order, and had escaped as it were by a -miracle from the flames, in which their -guilty brethren had perished. They were -eager to redeem by their own conduct -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>the slur, which the crimes of others had -brought upon their Convent, and were as -greedy of good actions, as most other -Monks are of rich legacies and well-stored -cellars.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“We were now near the vault, and already -the beams of the distant lamp struck -our eyes; but on our entrance, those -among us who were best-sighted were -aware, that the vault was not so totally -unoccupied, as I had left it. By the glimmerings -of a small lanthorn a tall dark -figure was descried, kneeling on the before-mentioned -grating. I sprang forward. -The stranger heard my steps, -started from the ground, and rushed by -me so suddenly, that I attempted to stop -him in vain. I called to the approaching -Monks not to let him pass; but before -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>they could reach him, his foot stumbled, -and he fell prostrate on the ground.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Totally engrossed by their impatience -to rescue the prisoner, my companions -were hastening forwards without paying -any attention to the stranger; but a -thought, which passed through my mind -like a flash of light, made me conceive, -how important it was to examine him. I -flattered myself, that I should discover in -him that same Luprian, whom the unfortunate -had mentioned, and who in all probability -was her gaoler. Should my conjecture -prove correct, I considered this -meeting as a great step towards her deliverance: -I therefore grasped him firmly -by the arm, and dragged him towards the -lamp, in order that I might examine my -prize.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>“I beheld a miserable creature, enveloped -in the ragged habit of a monk, and -whose bloodless cheeks, sunk eyes, and -emaciated limbs would have excited my -deepest compassion, had I not had good -cause to harbour suspicions, that compassion -was a sentiment, of which he was -but little deserving.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Art thou Luprian?” said I in a -thundering voice.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“He sank at my feet, and stammered -out an avowal.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Wretch!” I continued; “what -motive could induce thee to confine an -unfortunate woman in yonder subterraneous -dungeon?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“He was silent for a few moments; -then suddenly starting from the ground—“You -know that she <i>is</i> confined there,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>said he with a furious look, “and knowing -that, you know enough to destroy -me! Ask me no more questions; I will -answer none!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“He threw himself sullenly upon the -heap of ruins, and maintained an obstinate -silence. Unwilling to own that I knew -no more than his name, I first endeavoured -to terrify him into a disclosure of this -mystery; and finding my threats produce -no effect, I had recourse to persuasion, -painting in as strong colours as possible -the cruelty of suffering the unfortunate to -remain longer in her prison, and exhorting -him to atone in some degree for his -faults towards his captive, by being himself -the instrument to effect her release. -In the mean while my companions had -fallen to work with their spades and mattocks; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>but large pieces of stone frequently -fell into the dungeon below; and the -cries of the sufferer, who dreaded being -crushed beneath their weight, convinced -them, how dangerous was this mode of -procuring her deliverance, and finally compelled -them to desist from the attempt.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“What was now to be done? While -we agitated this question, Luprian stood -with his arms folded, silent and thoughtful, -as if He too had been resolving some -difficult point; at length he threw himself -on his knees before us; and on condition -that his life and liberty should be secured -to him, he made a proposal, which he -swore to fulfil conscientiously.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“No one but myself,” said he, “can -enable you to set that captive free, and it -is in my power to show you such means -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>as are most sure and speedy. You see -how rotten is this vault, and you may -judge from the faint murmur of her complaints, -how deep her dungeon is sunk -into the ground. It will at any rate be -long, ere you can force your way to her; -and from her extreme weakness it is unlikely, -that she should live till your arrival, -even should she escape the imminent danger -of having her brains dashed out by -some fragment of the crumbling roof. -But only speak one word to assure me of -life and forgiveness, and I will immediately -furnish you with explanations, which -(should you refuse my offer) this dagger -shall enable me to take with me to the -grave.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“The naked steel, which Luprian now -pointed towards his bosom, inspired us -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>with no alarm. It would have been easy -to wrest the weapon from his grasp; but -our impatience to assist the unfortunate -captive compelled us to give the required -promise. Her complaints had now again -ceased to be audible; and we felt, that -not a moment was to be lost, if we meant -to find her still in existence.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“As soon as we had solemnly engaged -not to attempt either his life or freedom, -Luprian resigned his dagger to one of the -Monks, and informed us, that in order -to accomplish our object it would be necessary -to quit the vault, and seek a different -entrance to the lady’s dungeon, -which was well known to him. Accordingly -we followed him for some time, till -we arrived at a remote part of the Convent -ruins.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>—“Here,” said he, stopping before a -ruined wall, from which he removed a -few loose stones, and showed us a narrow -flight of stairs; “here you must descend, -and these steps will conduct you to the -place, of which you are in search. Now -then I have performed my promise, and -require the performance of yours: permit -me to retire.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“I hastily seized a torch from one of -the Monks, and was hastening down the -staircase, without giving myself a moment’s -reflection: but the more prudent -Abbot detained me, gave the torch to Luprian, -and commanded him to finish the -work which he had begun, before he -claimed the reward of his services.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Nothing was left for him but to obey. -He guided us down about fifty steps, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>after reaching the foot of the stairs we had -a subterraneous passage to traverse of the -same length with that, which had led us -from the grating to the ruined wall. It -was terminated by an iron door strongly -fastened on the outside, and which had we -not detained Luprian, we should have -found no little difficulty, and lost no little -time, in opening. As I made this observation, -I cast upon him an accusing glance; -but the door unclosing left me no time to -express in words my indignation at this -proof of his intended treachery. We -rushed eagerly into the dungeon, and -found it to be a large vaulted cell, of which -darkness had taken such complete possession, -that the beams of our torches -were insufficient to dissipate the gloom, -and could only shed a faint glimmering -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>around us. Its only recommendations -were its loftiness and space. By holding -our lights on high, we could discern (but -with difficulty) the iron grating inserted -in the roof, through which the complaints -of the prisoner had so seasonably reached -me. Exactly beneath it stood a loaf and -a flask of wine, which Luprian had just let -down into the dungeon; and in a corner -of it stretched on a miserable pallet the object -of our search lay fainting, as indeed -we had suspected from her silence. With -the assistance of one of the younger -Monks I raised her from the ground, and -bore her to the upper air, which we considered -as the most likely means of bringing -her to herself.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“This hope however proved vain. Animation -was lost too completely to be so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>easily recalled. Above an hour had -elapsed since our conveying her to the -Abbot’s dwelling (where no means were -neglected that could restore animation) -before we had the least reason to flatter -ourselves with hopes of her recovery. At -length with inexpressible delight we saw -her half unclose her eyes; but she instantly -shut them again on account of the -pain caused in them by the light, to which -they were now quite unaccustomed.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“We gave her every possible assistance, -and after some time she gained strength -and recollection enough to enable her to -comprehend the favourable change, which -had taken place in her situation. Tears -of joy, and her clasped hands raised in -gratitude to Heaven, were her only answer. -She strove to thank us for the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>service which we had rendered her; but -emotion choaked her utterance, and to -express her sense of our kindness by looks -was not in her power, since the beams of -the sun (who was now risen) were so painful -to her eyes, that she had been obliged -to cover her face with a thick veil to save -herself from relapsing into insensibility.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“We therefore carefully excluded day-light -from her chamber, and left her to -repose. While she slept, we resolved to -take the opportunity of making Luprian -explain a business, which we conceived to -be of some importance, and respecting -which our curiosity was raised to the -highest pitch by hearing some of the -Monks assert their persuasion, that Luprian’s -features were not unknown to -them. The last Abbot of Curwald, who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>was supposed to have perished in the conflagration, -had borne that name, and in -spite of his pale countenance and meagre -form they verily believed my prisoner to -be no other. We were now all impatience -to ascertain this point; but we found, -that in order to effect our object we ought -to have been more upon our guard. Occupied -by the melancholy situation of the -lady, which excited universal interest and -compassion, not one of us had paid the -least attention to her gaoler: now that we -recollected him, he was not to be found. -It appeared probable, that he had forsaken -us immediately upon our entrance into -the subterraneous dungeon, since no one -remembered to have seen him since that -time, nor indeed to have bestowed a -thought upon him. We had now nothing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>left for it but to rail at our inattention, -and to lay the blame upon each other. -However, we did not think our loss of -any material consequence, since we doubted -not the lady’s ability to clear up the -mystery; and at all events the captive -was at liberty, and we had effected a good -deed.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“She awoke, greatly strengthened by -her refreshing slumber: her first request -was to be removed from the society of -men, and committed to the charge of persons -of her own sex. We had already -agreed with a respectable widow in one of -the neighbouring villages, that the invalid -should be taken to her house, as soon as -she was able to bear the removal. The -good woman soon made her appearance, -and the stranger’s impatience to quit the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>Monastery was so extreme, that we judged -her likely to suffer less detriment from the -journey than from delay. The distance -was not great; she was placed in an easy -litter; and her nurse took such good care -of her both during her removal and afterwards, -that she was quickly pronounced -out of all danger. Her eyes again became -accustomed to day-light; her hearing was -no longer hurt by the loudness of human -voices, and she could speak without difficulty: -yet has she never thought proper -to disclose her name either to myself, or to -the Abbot who visited her daily.—But let -it still remain concealed; there is at least -<i>one</i> title, which after hearing the brief relation -of her sufferings I know well to be -her proper right; the title of the purest -and most heroic of virtuous martyrs, a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>name which deserves to be engraved on -marble, and employed to add sanctity to -altars!</p> - -<p class='c018'>“You are surprised, holy Lady, to hear -the cold and serious Herman speak with -such enthusiasm; but let it not injure me -in your opinion. The rescued prisoner -perhaps was once beautiful, but now she -is so no longer. Sorrow and confinement -have robbed her person of every charm, -which could inspire the voluptuary’s heart -with passion: yet were I ever to love -again, my soul should be devoted to the -perfection of female virtue, not of female -loveliness. Emmeline, the enchanting -Emmeline, with all her train of charms -and graces, perhaps, I may in time cease to -remember; but never, oh! never shall I -forget the form of my pale emaciated captive, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>sinking into the grave the victim of -her principles; never while he has breath, -shall that interesting countenance fade -from the recollection of Herman of Werdenberg!</p> - -<p class='c018'>“But I have wandered widely from the -object of this long discourse; I came hither -to make a request, to which all that -I have said is but an introduction: the -health of this noble persecuted creature, -of my friend, my sister, my preserved -one, is now almost re-established. She begins -to consider, what it will hereafter be -most expedient for her to do; and as she -says, that she has no relation in the world -to whom she dares confide her interests, -she has condescended to ask my advice respecting -her future proceedings. We both -agreed, that a convent is the most proper -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>retreat for her in her present circumstances; -and on my mentioning to her -that, which is under your direction, holy -Mother, she received the proposal with -rapture.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Oh! surely,” she exclaimed, “my -mind cannot yet be quite itself again, or I -could not have hesitated a moment respecting -my choice.—Helen of Homburg!—the -Convent of Zurich!—Heavenly -powers, how could I have forgotten those -dear dear names so long?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“She then enquired eagerly, whether -Urania Venosta still lived within these -walls; and when I answered in the affirmative, -she discovered such strong emotion, -as her gentle despondent manners had -little led me to expect her being capable -of feeling. She clasped her hands in ecstacy; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>a shower of tears rolled down her -pale cheeks, while she sank on her knees, -and returned thanks to Heaven; she then -entreated me to leave her without delay, -and prepare a reception for her in your -Convent. I would willingly have first ascertained, -whether she was already known -to you; but her impatience would not -admit of my postponing my journey for -an instant, and I was compelled to depart -unsatisfied.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Now then may I hope, that my request -will not be rejected? Shall I be authorised -to assure my friend of a welcome reception -within these walls? Speak but one gracious -word, and a few hours will be sufficient -to bring her to your feet. Conducted -by the good Abbot she has followed -my steps hither, and I need only your -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>permission to deliver her up to your protection,”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>It is superfluous to say, that Herman’s -request was granted with readiness; but -how great was the emotion, which his narrative -had excited in his auditress, how -ardent her impatience for the arrival of the -unhappy lady! She was unable to restrain -her tears, and a thousand joyful exclamations -escaped her lips, whose import -was unintelligible to Herman.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Am I right,” said he, “in supposing, -that my friend is not unknown to -you?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Heaven grant, that it may prove -so,” answered the Abbess, while she hastily -wiped away her tears. “But as yet you -have allowed me so little insight into her -history, that I scarcely dare give credit to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>my hopes. Oh! furnish me with more -light; tell me every thing that you know -about her; and prevent my nourishing the -sweet but deceitful dreams, which now occupy -my fancy. Alas! alas! it is impossible -that they should be verified; in pity -then destroy them at once, before these -fond hopes have time to take such root in -my heart, that to tear them out again -would almost break it.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“All that I know respecting this -stranger,” answered Herman, “is, that -she was immured by her friends in the -Convent of St. Roswitha several months -before the fatal conflagration. It was not -long, before she became acquainted with -the manners, which prevailed in this polluted -Sanctuary. Luprian, the unworthy -Abbot of Curwald, who even under the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>protecting roof of her father had insulted -her by a declaration of his passion, renewed -his persecution with increased ardour -in a place, which was completely under -his dominion. Much time was not -suffered to elapse, before her resistance -was punished by confinement in the cell, -whence I released her: yet she was occasionally -compelled to return to the Convent, -in order that her virtue might be assailed -by art, flattery, and every power of -the most refined seduction, as well as by -severity and persecution.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“The day preceding the dreadful night, -in which these dwellings of sin were purified -by fire, had witnessed such a scene -of temptation, as Luprian thought could -not possibly fail of success. But it was -defeated in a manner so disgraceful for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>the enemies of innocence, that spite and -fury took the place of seduction and love. -The heroine was compelled to endure a variety -of the most cruel insults and injuries, -and then was dragged back to her dungeon -so exhausted with her sufferings, -that she could scarcely be called alive.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“To her return to this prison was she -indebted for existence. It was sunk so -deep within the earth and so remote from -the inhabited parts of the Convent, that -she only had a slight suspicion from different -circumstances, that something unusual -was passing above her head. She -was confirmed in this idea by several days -elapsing without any nourishment being -brought to her. She was reduced to the -greatest extremity; and hunger would -soon have put a period to her sufferings, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>when the prison-door was unlocked, and -the Abbot entered. A cordial of great -power, which he gave her, restored her -strength sufficiently to enable her at length -to comprehend the object of his visit. He -first informed her of the events which had -lately taken place, and then proceeded to -propose to her the terms, on which she -might obtain her liberty.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“It is universally believed,” said he, -“that I, as well as the rest of my Order, -have fallen a prey to the flames; I encourage -this opinion, since it enables me with -security to quit a profession, for which I -am ill calculated, and which I have always -held in detestation. I acknowledge it, my -passion for you has hitherto been such, as -you ought not to have complied with; -but I now come to declare sentiments so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>pure, that you may safely listen to them -without doing the least injury to your -honour. I have rescued the Abbey-treasure -from the ruins; I have also secured -such considerable funds in other countries, -as will enable me to support the establishment -of a temporal prince in any place -which you may prefer, provided it be one -where my person is not known. Nothing -is wanting to complete my happiness, except -the possession of your hand, and I -trust, you will not be so blind to your own -advantage, as to reject my honourable -suit. But one choice is allowed you; -either you must perish in this dungeon, -whose existence is now a secret to every -human being except myself; or else you -must take a solemn oath upon the cross to -share my flight from Germany, and become -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span> my wife, as soon as we are safe in -some foreign climate. There is no time -for deliberation; the success of my plans -depends upon their speedy execution, and -you must instantly and at once pronounce -the sentence, which decides both <i>your</i> fate -and my own.—I wait your answer.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“That answer was such, as might have -been expected from one, by whom the licentious -Luprian was held in as much abhorrence, -as virtue was held dear and idolized. -She asserted the indissoluble nature -of his vows to religion, and repaid his -tender speeches with such scorn, that he -left her with a threat never to repeat his -offer, but to suffer her to perish of hunger -without compassion or remorse. But the -captive was too dear to him to permit his -keeping that resolution. He tormented -<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>her with frequent visits, and desisted not -from his fruitless endeavours to reconcile -her to his plans; though to her great satisfaction -he was latterly compelled to abstain -from entering her dungeon. A suspicion -existed, that considerable treasures -were buried among the ruins of the Monastery; -it was therefore judged prudent -to place sentinels about them, and thus -was the execrable Monk debarred all intercourse -with his prisoner, except such as -could be carried on by favour of the iron -grating.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Luprian now found it absolutely necessary -for him to visit Italy, where he -had deposited the chief part of his wealth. -He entrusted the care of the lady to his sole -Confident. As his absence was protracted -longer than he had himself expected, she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>enjoyed some respite from his infamous -addresses, and was not without hopes, -that her entreaties and sufferings would at -last induce his representative to take some -steps towards effecting her deliverance. -Those hopes however were continually disappointed. -His heart was not more flexible -than his associate’s; he remained immutably -faithful to the trust reposed in -him; and in answer to her enquiries respecting -the transactions of the regions -above her, he gave her such accounts of the -successes of her enemies and of the destruction -of all those who were dear to her, as -almost extinguished her anxiety to escape -from her dungeon. She saw, that nothing -but sorrow would welcome her return to -liberty, and the natural love of life struggled -but faintly against the certainty of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>present sufferings, and the apprehension -of those, which were still to come.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Day after day crept away, during -which the dreadful uniformity of her unhappy -situation was uninterrupted, except -by moments of utter despair, whose -power frequently was on the point of subduing -the poor prisoner; or else by those -gleams of ungrounded hope, with which -Providence strengthens and comforts those -whom he means finally to preserve, in order -that they may not quite sink beneath -the burthen of their calamities. Luprian -still returned not: the lady’s complaints -seemed gradually to make their impression -on the mind of his deputy. He occasionally -suffered hints to escape him, that it -would not be impossible to obtain his consent -to her liberty: and at length at her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>earnest request he was induced to declare, -that he was ready that instant to put an -end to her sufferings, provided she would -consent to share with him as his wife the -enjoyment of that wealth, which the Abbot -had placed in his custody.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Here then her hopes again were disappointed. -Vexation added bitterness to -the manner, in which she indignantly rejected -his infamous proposal: and the -wretch, exasperated by her cutting expressions, -swore, that he would put his -plan in execution without her that very -day, and would leave her to her fate. He -kept his oath; and the captive must have -perished, had not the Abbot fortunately -returned at this identical moment. His -expedition had been attended with nothing -but disappointment. The wealth, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>which he had vested in foreign hands, had -disappeared from a variety of causes, some -through mischance, more through treachery; -and he now only returned to find -his associate fled, his treasure plundered, -and his mistress as inflexible as ever. Vexation, -poverty, and fatigue threw him on -the bed of sickness. Many days frequently -past, during which the captive was totally -neglected; when at length her gaoler -appeared, it was only to throw to her a -loaf of that bread, of which he now could -with difficulty procure a sufficiency for -his own sustenance, and with every time -to assure her, that this nourishment was -the last, which she would ever receive -from his hands. He spoke no longer of -flight, or indeed of his passion for her; in -truth, the former now seemed to be almost -<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>impracticable, for the rebuilding of -the Monastery was begun; people were -constantly employed in the neighbourhood -of the dungeon’s entrance; and the outlets -from the ruins were watched with -more vigilance than ever. The sufferer -frequently entreated him to promise, that -he would at least reveal to some one the -place of her confinement before his death; -since in order to increase her terrors he -never mist an opportunity of assuring her, -that he had not many days to exist. But -in vain did she represent to him, that -when he should be in another world, her -sufferings in this could by no means be to -him of any advantage: he was deaf to her -supplications. Bitter and contemptuous -irony was his only answer; and it seemed -as if he solely enabled her to support life, in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>order that he might still have a human being -in his power to torment.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“It was about this time, that the vaults -above her prison became an object of examination: -they were completely clogged -up with rubbish, except one narrow passage -conducting to the grate. She had -often determined on ending her sufferings -by a voluntary death, and for several days -persisted in refusing sustenance; but now -that she frequently heard a noise above -her head, and even once or twice caught -the gleam of distant torches through the -iron opening, her fearful resolutions were -laid aside, and their place occupied by the -hope, that accident perhaps might effect -her deliverance.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“These hopes she concealed most sedulously -from her tyrant; and so often had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>her sweetest dreams disappointed her, that -despair still was able at times to regain his -former influence over her mind. Yet she -was now so accustomed to mark by some -piteous sound, that there was a suffering -creature buried in these caverns who implored -assistance, that she continued her -groans and cries, even when she had long -given up the expectation of their reaching -the ear of compassion. In truth, the -workmen, during the intervals of their labours, -had caught the faint murmurs of -her complaints; but they put no other interpretations -upon the sound, than such -as were suggested by terror and superstition. -Fortunately our enterprise necessarily -brought us every day nearer the place -of her seclusion; till at length some good -Angel made me attentive to the cry of sorrow, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>and guided me to the performance -of an action, which I shall never cease to -consider as the most blessed and fortunate -event of my whole life.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Herman of Werdenberg here ended his -long narrative; the emotions which it had -produced in Helen were so violent, that -every similitude would fall short of expressing -their strength.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Emmeline!” said she in that internal -voice, which is only audible to the -soul, “thou liv’st then, and I shall once -more clasp to my bosom the poor forlorn -orphan, the persecuted dove, the pious -martyr of chastity and religion!—And -Herman is your deliverer! that very -Herman of Werdenberg, who once was -unjust to your merits, and who now (if I -may judge by every possible evidence) -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>adores you with the warmest, purest affection, -ever kindled in the bosom of a -mortal! Oh! Helen, Helen, what unexpected -joy! You will see two of the best -of human beings made happy after long -and cruel sufferings, and will yourself assist -in forwarding their happiness! My -own plans of worldly bliss have all been -ruined; in reward for my not murmuring -at their destruction, grant me, ye -powers of mercy, that wisdom and that -foresight, which may enable me to establish -the felicity of my friend on the firmest -foundations and with the least delay.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Herman was at a loss to comprehend -the long silence of the Abbess, and the -deep meditation, into which his narrative -seemed to have plunged her. At length -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>she recollected herself, and at her request -he retired in search of the stranger, Helen -having previously stipulated that he should -not be present at their meeting. She was -not certain, that in the first moments of -emotion she should be sufficiently mistress -of herself to conceal Emmeline’s name; -and from what he had said, she collected, -that it was not her friend’s intention at -present to discover herself to her deliverer.</p> - -<p class='c018'>A few hours elapsed, before Emmeline -appeared leaning on the good Abbot: -Helen now was no longer surprised, that -in her present situation she had not been -recognized by her former lover. She was -sadly, sadly changed. It was necessary to -have been quite as lovely as Emmeline, in -order not to have lost every charm of person -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>during the long and cruel period of -her captivity; it was necessary to have -possest as wonderful a strength of mind -as hers, in order to escape with her senses -unimpaired from the fearful shipwreck of -all that was then most dear to her. Ah! -Herman, Herman! that youthful vivacity, -which appeared to you so high a crime, -and for which you so unjustly blamed the -innocent girl, was now fled for ever; its -place was supplied by a mild and serious -look of resignation, whose melancholy it’s -true was sometimes illumined by a benevolent -smile; but the smile was but momentary, -and its lustre soon faded away. -Yet thus it was, that you wished her to be; -and thus must Emmeline needs appear to -you a thousand times more pleasing, than -while she yet shone with all the brilliant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>powers of unfaded youth, vivacity, and -beauty. Beautiful in truth was Emmeline -no more; but Emmeline was still interesting -beyond expression. A slight frail -nymph-like form, so light that it seemed -as if air could have sustained her; a face, -robbed of its roseate colour, but so dazzling -fair, that she resembled a marble -statue; a countenance, from which a -painter might have formed a portrait of -Christian Humility, and to which the consciousness -of heroic self-denial and of long -abstraction from all earthly hopes and -pleasures, had given a saint-like expression -that was almost supernatural; such now -was the once brilliant Emmeline of Sargans!</p> - -<p class='c018'>But Helen did not make these observations -during the first moments of their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>meeting; she could attend to nothing but -the joy of once more embracing her persecuted -friend, whom she prest to her bosom -with pleasure too great for utterance. -Emmeline was more composed; it was -long since she had seen Helen, who had -never been to her more than a beloved -play-fellow, whom she sometimes remembered -with a wish to meet again, and -sometimes quite forgot in contemplation -of nearer interests and impending dangers: -but much more was she to Helen. The -sufferings of amiable persons, with whom -we have ever had even the slightest acquaintance, -give them an extraordinary -value in our eyes; and they inspire us -with an affection for them which rises to -the highest pitch, if we feel that it is at -all in our power to show them kindness, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>and to repair in some degree the past injustice -of their fate.</p> - -<p class='c018'>What happened at this interview between -the re-united friends; with what -rapture Emmeline was received by the infirm -Urania, whose life was now drawing -towards its close; the recapitulation of -what had past during their separation, -and the plans which they arranged for the -future; all this I shall pass over in silence, -and shall only relate so much of the latter, -as may be absolutely necessary. Time and -grief had made alterations in Herman’s appearance -scarcely less surprising than in -Emmeline’s. His assumed name; his -gentle manners softened by melancholy -recollections and by compassion for the invalid, -so different from the sternness and -contempt with which he had ever treated -<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>her at the Bishop’s court; the dimness of -her still-enfeebled sight; the darkened -chamber, whose half-light only afforded -her an indistinct view of her deliverer, -when he visited her; these circumstances -had contributed to conceal Herman from -her knowledge, and she only entertained -a suspicion, that the sound of his voice -was not totally unknown to her. But she -remarked his growing affection; and being -unwilling to encourage it, she abstained -from making those enquiries, which -might perhaps have satisfied her curiosity, -but which also might have led him to believe, -that she was interested respecting -him.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She was perfectly ignorant of all, that had -passed during her captivity. She had -given her gaoler’s assertions implicit credit, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>and firmly believed, that the few persons -whom she loved were numbered -among the dead.—With what joy did she -hear from Helen’s lips the assurance, that -Amalberga was alive and happy, and that -she herself was indebted for her release to -no other than Herman of Werdenberg!—In -truth, she had hitherto been resolved -to discourage the attachment of this unknown -warrior; but this resolution only -lasted, till she discovered his real name. -Present gratitude and former affection -now gave him a double interest in her -heart: yet did it not so totally overpower -all other feelings, as to determine her to -forget entirely the injustice of his former -conduct. She was resolved to put him to -a severe trial; she was besides not quite -certain, that his ancient prejudices might -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>not still have some influence over him; -but a few conversations with the Knight -were sufficient to efface every suspicion on -this subject. He frequently visited his -unknown mistress at the Convent-grate, -where (the better to elude a discovery) -she never appeared without a veil: with -every visit his attachment evidently increased -in strength; yet even in her presence -he frequently bestowed a sigh upon -the rejected Emmeline, whom he never -mentioned but in terms of interest and -compassion. This conduct was not without -its advantage, and when he was soon -after compelled to fulfill his vow of assisting -in the crusade against the infidel Albigese, -he did not depart without hopes of -being welcome at his return.</p> - -<p class='c018'>During his absence the meeting took -<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>place between Emmeline and her beloved -sister. Helen had at length gained such -perfect mastery over her feelings, as to endure -without agony the presence of Torrenburg -and the happy Amalberga; and -she and Urania were the delighted witnesses -of a scene, which appeared rather -calculated for the regions of light beyond -the grave, than for the habitation of -wretched mortality. Amalberga, clasped -in the arms of that sister, whom she had so -long numbered with the dead; Torrenburg, -Urania, and Helen, the spectators -of and the partners in their joy; and then -the relation of Emmeline’s cruel sufferings; -and then the description of Amalberga’s -unclouded happiness; and then -the brilliant prospects for the future which -displayed themselves to both, and which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>for <i>this</i> time were no illusions.... No, I -will not trust my feeble pen with the description!</p> - -<p class='c018'>The report soon circulated through the -country, that the lost daughter of Count -Donat was still in existence. The sisters -shared the inheritance amicably, like two -lovers dividing some scarce and delicious -fruit, each anxious that the other should -receive a full proportion. From every -quarter of the free and happy Helvetia -thronged the ancient friends of the family -of Sargans to congratulate the co-heiresses. -At length came also Herman of Werdenberg -in quest of his unknown mistress, -whom he understood to be resident at -Sargans; he returned from his expedition, -crowned with glory, and rewarded by the -Pope with absolution from his sins; a favour, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>of which the pious warrior stood but -little in need. Count Torrenburg proffered -him the hand of his sister, of the -rich heiress of Sargans, of her whose -beauty had formerly fascinated his eyes; -but his heart was now possest by the poor -and friendless stranger, and the hand of -the rich heiress was respectfully declined. -Indignation at this refusal was the reason -assigned by Amalberga for the non-appearance -of her sister; the stranger however -was not equally invisible, though her veil -was not yet laid aside; and her consent -to become his bride soon repaid him for -his constancy. It was not till the espousals -had taken place, that she revealed to -him her real name, which Herman now -grown wiser heard without repugnance; -for his early prejudices had at length lost -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>their influence in his bosom, and Emmeline’s -past sufferings left him no doubt respecting -the purity of her future conduct. -He believed, that he had plighted his -faith to a needy friendless orphan; and -the orphan in giving him her hand made -him the powerful Lord of Upper-Carlsheim, -of Ortenstein, and of many other -fruitful territories. Happy were their -days; happy was she through him, and -he through her! He had found once -more the long-lost jewel, of whose value -he was so long unconscious; he had found -the attachments of his early youth and of -his maturer manhood, the choice both of -his heart and of his head, and had found -them all united in the person of his adored -Emmeline!</p> - -<p class='c018'>And Helen was the spectatress of their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>felicity, nay is so still at the moment that -I trace these lines! Dear as they were to -her, so dear to her are still the sisters and -their worthy husbands!—Lo! how in this -world every thing passes away; God be -thanked for it, even our passions pass -away, as well as the rest. Tranquil age -succeeds the impetuosity and hurry of -youth; the summer, whose every day -was disturbed by tempests, is replaced by -the mild and mellow autumn.—Much as it -had suffered, bitter as had been its disappointments, -cruel as had been its sacrifices, -even the heart of Helen at length was at -rest.</p> - -<p class='c018'>All my friends still flourish; all who -are dear to me still live, even the venerable -Urania. My native land smiles all -around in blessed peace; not one of those, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>who are near to my heart, has as yet been -obliged to pay with his blood the price of -precious Freedom! Guilt begins to be a -stranger among our citizens; the dwellings -of luxury and indolence are converted -into sanctuaries of virtue and religion. -The Monastery of Curwald has risen from -its ashes with increased lustre; no Luprian, -no Guiderius now rules there over -proud voluptuous Monks; no sisters of -Love<a id='r4' /><a href='#f4' class='c019'><sup>[4]</sup></a> now inhabit the cells of the neighbouring -Convent. The good Abbot John -has admitted into his fraternity none but -such men, as look on vice with no less detestation -than himself; and their holy conduct -has completely removed the stigma, -which the remembrance of their abandoned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>predecessors had fixed upon the whole -brotherhood of Cloister-Curwald.</p> - -<div class='fn'> - -<div class='footnote' id='f4'> -<p class='c020'><span class='label'><a href='#r4'>4</a>. </span>Sorores Agapetæ.</p> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c018'>In the subterraneous vaults of Sargans -has Herman lately raised a splendid monument -sacred to the sufferings of his wife. -Thirty silver lamps blaze before it; an -easy and unguarded entrance admits every -one, who chooses to approach it; and -there does many a pilgrim often loiter to -hear with pious admiration the history of -a still living saint.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Amalberga was desirous of opening the -communication between the vaulted caverns -and the south-western mountains, -where the fugitive Monks established their -hermitage: but hitherto all attempts to -discover the outlet have been unsuccessful. -The old Gertrude is no more; the -Countess Urania’s age and infirmity forbids -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>her visiting the Castle; and the directions, -which her memory could furnish, -are rendered of no avail, the -vaults being completely altered in appearance -by the falling-in of the roof. Researches -made on the outside of the mountain -have been equally fruitless, nor has -even the Hermitage itself been discovered. -Probably the holy Society has been dissolved -by death: Fame will not hand -down their good works to the admiration -of after-ages, but that is of but little consequence; -they stand inscribed in letters -of flame in the book of the Everlasting!</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div><span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>ELIZABETH OF TORRENBURG</div> - <div class='c000'>[CONTINUED.]</div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class='c021'><i>Elizabeth, Countess of Torrenburg, to Count Oswald of March.</i></h3> - -<p class='c022'>By this, my dear brother, you must be -as well informed of the history of the Ladies -of Sargans, as myself; I am impatient -to know your opinion of these papers, and -whether the effect which they have produced -upon <i>your</i> mind is as strong, as that -which during their perusal I experienced -upon my own.—Yet that is impossible; -my peculiar situation makes these annals -inexpressibly interesting to me; and did -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>not the parchments, from which I have -copied them, bear unequivocal marks of -their antiquity, I should suspect their having -been written for the purpose of being -laid before me. While I read, I was half -tempted to believe, that the good old Abbot, -who recommended them to my notice, -had inserted all those passages, which apply -so well to my own situation, in order to -lead me unconsciously to the point, where -he has been labouring to place me; and if -this were the fact, how would he triumph -in the success of his design! But the circumstances -of these memoirs are alas! but -too authentic; as to their antiquity I -have such proofs of it, that I would boldly -match them against the title-deeds of -my domains, and other old documents -of that period, at which these annals -are stated to have been composed.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>Nevertheless, feeling it to be of no -slight importance to me to know, whether -what I had read was authentic or a mere -fabrication, I spared no pains to ascertain -the fact. You are aware, that I became -possest of these writings by little better -than a piece of theft; and in truth there -may be good reasons for not communicating -to one of the laity these papers, which -contain such frightful memorials of ecclesiastical -guilt.—I could not therefore attack -the Abbess on the subject directly; -but as in hopes of pacifying me for my -disappointment she had proposed to relate -such particulars respecting the Ladies of -Sargans, as were most worthy of my attention, -(an offer, which I at first rejected -out of obstinacy, and through vexation at -the denial of my request) I now summoned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>her to perform her promise, for -the purpose of comparing what I should -hear from her with the particulars contained -in the stolen parchments.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The Abbess bestowed upon me a few -hours every day in that closet, where the -portraits of the Ladies of Sargans had first -attracted my attention to those models of -virtue and patient suffering: her account -of them did not greatly vary from that, -which I had already obtained. I confess, -that where-ever a clerical person would -have appeared in rather an odious light, -whether it was a Monk or a Nun, a Bishop -or an Abbess, the good lady never failed -to soften matters and wrap the transgressors -up carefully in the veil of mystery; -but those examples of misfortune and heroic -self-command, which appeared so peculiarly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>applicable to myself, she confirmed -most fully, and exactly as I had read -them: nor can I decide, whether they -made most impression on me while reading -them alone and for the first time by -the glimmerings of a midnight lamp, or -when they were pronounced by the lips of -this holy woman, this earthly saint, whose -head within a few short years (too soon -alas! for those who like me know her -worth) will be crowned with wreaths of -celestial glory.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Though scarcely in the autumn of her -life, the excellent Abbess already stands -upon the brink of her grave. A slow consumption -insensibly destroys her noble -powers, and the repetition of these adventures -was a real sacrifice which she -made to friendship. Her present state -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>adds weight to her testimony. Think -you, Oswald, that so near the transit -from time to eternity, she would waste -away her hours in relating tales, which -she knew to be mere fabrications?—Impossible!</p> - -<p class='c018'>No! oh, no! What I have read, is -true! The venerable Urania, on whose -image my eye rests with such soft melancholy, -and thou too, poor Adelaide, whose -bitter fate beguiled me so often of my -tears! you both once lived and suffered, -you both once thought and acted, exactly -as I have read and believed; and these examples -of heroic patience, under afflictions -far heavier than mine, shall serve <i>me</i> as -guides in the conduct, which it now becomes -me to pursue.</p> - -<p class='c018'>But for thee, generous Helen! for thee -<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>whose fortune so thoroughly resembles -my own, from this moment thou shalt be -the model, after which I will form my -whole heart and character; and when my -resolution staggers under the weight of -human weakness, to thy portrait will I -turn my eyes for comfort and support.</p> - -<p class='c018'>My brother, I am convinced beyond the -power of doubting, that Helen herself, -and no other, was the authoress of the concluding -manuscript. Every page of it betrays -marks of an interest, which none but -an actor in the tale could be capable of -feeling; and oh! how much has this -persuasion increased in my eyes the value -of the writing!</p> - -<p class='c018'>At my request the Abbess pointed out -to me Helen’s picture; and such was my -enthusiastic partiality, that I was weak -<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>enough to fancy a striking likeness between -her features, and those which my -mirror shows me. I made the observation -to my venerable friend; she assented to -it with a smile, and added, “that it was -not in person alone, that I resembled Helen -of Homburg.”—I started, and requested -an explanation as to the parts of Helen’s -history, which were so like my own. -Again the idea of an imposition flitted -across my mind; I believed, what had -passed between myself and Ida to be a total -secret in the Convent; and if the Abbess -was acquainted with my story, it was -still possible, that all which I had heard -from her had been dictated by Abbot Conrad. -Her answer, however, soon removed -this suspicion.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Helen,” said she, “was not only -<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>fair, illustrious, benevolent, and pious, -like Elizabeth, but she was also learned -like Her. I understand, that the exercise -of your pen is your favourite amusement; -and there still exist writings of Helen, -which are well-deserving your attention, -and which I would willingly communicate -to you, my dear Lady, had I not been positively -enjoined to the contrary by superior -orders.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>The recollection of my treachery forced -the colour into my cheeks. To prevent my -confusion being remarked, I hastened to -enquire—“why I was prohibited this pleasure, -and who was my secret enemy?”—The -Abbess shook her head, and confest, -that the writings of ecclesiastical persons -frequently contained circumstances improper -<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>to be made known to the laity, for -fear of giving a shock to their orthodox -opinions.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“But only resolve,” she added smiling, -“to become one of our Sisterhood, -and when I die, I will bequeath you my -station, and full permission to peruse all -the manuscripts deposited in the spacious -archives of this Convent.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Ah! my dear brother, were Montfort -a Torrenburg and Ida an Amalberga, how -easy would it be for me to take such a -step! But the ill opinion which I entertain -both of Henry and his mistress, and -my still lively sense of the perfidy and injustice -with which they repaid my affection, -will perhaps make me yet longer hesitate -to act, as would best become me, and to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>follow the glorious example of self-denial, -set forth in Helen’s conduct.—Farewell, -dear Oswald; my heart is sad, but loves -you tenderly.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span> - <h3 class='c021'><i>Elizabeth of Torrenburg to Count Oswald.</i></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c022'>I have confided my secret history to the -Abbess. In whom can I more properly -confide, than in her who will soon stand -before the Almighty’s throne, and before -whose eyes all concealed things will soon -be made manifest? To whom can I better -apply for advice, than to a soul so near -the boundaries of earthly being, that a ray -of celestial light already illumines it, and -enables her mental vision to see the things -of this world in their proper likeness?</p> - -<p class='c018'>She is now informed of every thing; -and I must acknowledge, I was frequently -<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>embarrassed by some questions, with -which she every now and then interrupted -my narrative.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Then you are certain, <i>quite</i> certain -of having been the first object of Montfort’s -affection?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I am to understand then, that the -attachment between you was equally -strong, and that his whole soul was as -much devoted to you, as yours was to -him?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>“What? and could he really be so base -as to desert you at the very foot of the -altar, merely because at that moment he -happened to be struck by the charms of -one of your bridemaids? This seems to -me very strange, my daughter; and me-thinks, -it does not well harmonize with -the acknowledged probity of Montfort’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>former conduct.—If he had not loved you, -to be sure he would not have persuaded -you to fly with him from your brother’s -Castle—and yet, if I recollect right, you -mentioned, that his carrying you off -prevented your being compelled to espouse -the aged Count of Torrenburg, -who was then as much the object of your -aversion, as (when his virtues became, -known to you) he was afterwards the object -of your esteem?—You were young, -amiable, in distress, partial to Montfort ... -it is very possible, that love induced him -to advise your flight; but then again it -is also possible, that mere sympathy and -compassion <i>might</i> have led him to give the -very same counsel, and to take the very -same step.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Such was the vexatious mode of arguing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>and of seeing things adopted by the -Abbess. I recapitulated the strong reasons -which I had to believe, that in offering -me his hand Montfort was prompted by -affection.——The Abbess acknowledged -their force; but she added—“that it was -very easy for that, which was at <i>first</i> nothing -more than compassionate interest -for the beautiful Elizabeth, to be in time -<i>converted</i> into love.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>This compliment so ill-timed put me -more out of patience, than her humiliating -questions and remarks. It was with -difficulty, that I concealed my ill-humour, -and hastily endeavoured to change the -subject of our discourse.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Alas! my dear brother, everyone seems -to be in Montfort’s interests, and averse -to mine. The decision of my venerable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>counsellor Albert Reding has just been -communicated to me, and I find.... But -I will not repeat to you, what he says: -what do wealth and power, what do vassals -and domains concern me now?—My -peace is fled, my heart is broken!—</p> - -<p class='c018'>The Abbess was not easily persuaded to -quit the subject: and at length she put -some enquiries, which cut me to the very -heart.—They regarded the friend and companion -of my earliest youth, the worthy -Richard of Ulmenhorst, whose love I had -rejected, solely influenced by my partiality -for Montfort. I was thrown into -such confusion by this unexpected home-attack, -that ... I set all politeness fairly -at defiance, and without replying, abruptly -spoke upon another subject.</p> - -<p class='c018'>We were sitting in the Abbess’s private -<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>closet; and I now compelled those portraits, -which had at first excited my curiosity -respecting the secrets of this Convent, -to furnish me with an excuse (good or -bad) for eluding questions, which I felt -but little inclination to answer.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Holy Mother,” said I, “among -all the histories respecting the Ladies of -Sargans which you have related, there is -one still unknown to me. You have always -past over the picture, which represents -two female pilgrims, bewildered -among the barren wilds of a snow-covered -mountain; a picture, which when I first -entered this room, drew more of my attention, -than any of its companions. I at -first believed them to represent the unfortunate -sisters, Emmeline and Amalberga; -but I do not recollect to have heard (I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>had nearly said “to have <i>read</i>”) any circumstances -in their history according with -the scene before me. How anxiously they -seem to be looking for the right path!—Good -Mother, inform me, whether they -found it, and what untoward accident -brought them into their present distress? -You really must make me better acquainted -with their adventures, for my whole -heart already speaks in their favour.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Does it in truth?” said the Abbess, -smiling at my eagerness. “Oh! that -good heart!—But look at the picture -nearer; see whether you can find in the -countenances nothing to justify your partiality, -except the expression of distress?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>I drew near, and examined the picture -carefully; but I soon turned away again, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>and felt, that my cheeks were burning; in -truth something till then unobserved -struck me in the features, but the effect -produced was by no means pleasing.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Well!” enquired the Abbess; “have -you discovered any thing?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“That general family-likeness,” I replied -carelessly, “which is peculiar to the -House of Sargans. But I entreat you, -Mother, inform me, who do those figures -represent?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Two innocent and unfortunate -sisters,” was the Abbess’s answer, “driven -from their proper station, and compelled -even to conceal their very names by a succession -of untoward circumstances, not by -any fault of their own committing. I could -tell you much respecting them, that perhaps -would not appear to you uninteresting; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>but I am too weak to undertake the -task at present. However, not to leave -your curiosity quite unsatisfied, such an -account of them as exists in our archives -shall be looked out, and delivered to -you in the course of this evening. Probably, -you will find this narrative more instructive, -and in every respect better worth -your inspection, than those which I am -compelled to withhold from you, since the -latter were written by Females but little -skilled in literature; while the history, of -which I speak, was transmitted to posterity -by the learned pen of an Abbot of -Cloister-Curwald.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Of Curwald?” I repeated, with a -smile of contempt and incredulity.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Nay, nay, good Countess,” said the -Abbess with some warmth; “no prejudices, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>I implore you! The author of -that manuscript, a copy of which I propose -entrusting to you, was no Guiderius, -no Luprian, believe me! No, daughter, -he was one of the wisest and holiest men -of the age, in which he lived; a man in -short, whose virtues conferred honour on -the rank of a prelate, and who was in fact, -as well as in name, a true dignitary of the -church.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>I am now waiting in momentary expectation -of receiving the promised manuscript. -The situation, in which I exist -at present, is such, as makes it necessary -for me to seize every means of diverting -the natural current of my thoughts into a -different channel: it is to this necessity, -that a great portion must be ascribed of -the impatience, with which I look forward -to the arrival of this narrative.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span> - <h3 class='c021'><i>Elizabeth of Torrenburg to Count Oswald.</i></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c022'>I have received the manuscript; I have -read it, and have read it more than once.—I -send it to <i>you</i>, my brother; read it, as -<i>I</i> have done; feel, what <i>I</i> have felt; then -will nothing surprise you which you may -hear, respecting the actions of your sister</p> -<p class='c023'><span class='sc'>Elizabeth.</span></p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span> - <h2 class='c016'><i>PART THE SIXTH.</i></h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>THE SISTERS WITHOUT A NAME.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class='c021'><i>Written by the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald.</i></h3> - -<p class='c022'>Above a century has passed away, since -the last heroines of that family, to whose -annals I am preparing to add, quitted the -scene of human action. I say, the <i>last</i>, because -no accounts exist of their successors; -but during that long and vacant period, -who knows, but that many excellent persons -may have acted in a manner which did -credit to their ancestors, though no written -or traditional memorial remains to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>communicate to posterity their virtues -and their woes, their trials and their victories? -My heart delights in the tale, -which records examples of heroic excellence; -and I have frequently censured the -indolence of cotemporary writers, for suffering -this period to remain a blank. Lest -I should deserve that censure myself, -which I have not scrupled to inflict upon -others, I now take up my pen, and proceed -to execute a task, which (should I -live to finish it) will, I trust, rescue from -oblivion some circumstances well-deserving -to be remembered. What I shall set -down will be truth, pure unadorned truth. -A just cause demands not the aid of ornament; -and should these leaves ever meet -the eye of persons, who may think -themselves more nearly interested in their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>contents than others, let them not for an -instant suspect, that one syllable is either -inserted or retrenched upon <i>their</i> account, -or with a view to produce any other sentiment -in their bosoms, than a conviction -of the truth. It is not before <i>their</i> tribunal, -that I plead the cause of two unfortunates, -but before that of the whole world: -I write not for them, whose prejudices may -perhaps make them refuse to peruse more -than a few pages of this narrative, and -who may close their eyes obstinately -against the light, which shews them that, -which they are unwilling to see. No; I -write for impartial judges, and will state -my case with as pure and rigid fidelity, -as were I stating it to the ear of Heaven.</p> - -<p class='c018'>In the tranquil vales, which border the -lakes of Thun and of the Four Cantons, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>those lakes where Helvetian Liberty first -threw her fetters away, still do the families -exist of those best friends of their native -country, the Melthals, the Forests, -the Bernsdorfs, and the Tells. Their different -branches have spread themselves on -all sides, and almost form a little nation of -their own; whose sons and daughters, -even in a land where honour, bravery, -and truth are so universal, still distinguish -themselves from their compatriots -by the superiority of their virtues. It were -an easy task for me to point out many -Williams, Walters, and Henrics, many -Gertrudes and Amabels in this amiable -community, so perfectly have the good -qualities of their fore-fathers been inherited -by their children: but at present I -shall only mention the inhabitants of one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>particular house, which sheltered the infancy -of the heroines of my tale.</p> - -<p class='c018'>’Twas the peaceful cottage of a younger -William and a younger Amabel, the descendants -of that Tell, who offered up the -tyrant Gessler as a sacrifice to the insulted -liberties of Helvetia: here among a crowd -of blooming sons and daughters two lovely -girls were remarked, whose appearance -made it evident, that their origin was not -the same with that of their play-mates. It -is true, that they called themselves their -sisters, and were persuaded, that in fact -they were so; but yet the truth was quite -otherwise. The real children of the family -were healthy and strong like the generality -of their kindred; but these two -girls were fair and delicate, and rather resembled -beautiful exotic plants surrounded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>by meadow flowers, to which they condescended -to allow the honour of a common -origin: and however they might themselves -esteem the merits of these simple -children of nature, to all other eyes it was -plain, that their own perfections were far -superior.</p> - -<p class='c018'>I have entitled this narrative “the -Sisters without a Name,” for it was long -before they knew the family, from which -they sprung; and when it was at length -revealed to them, they found, that their -rights were in the possession of strangers. -Nay, at the moment that I am writing, -they are still denied the privilege of calling -themselves by the name of an illustrious -House, whose dignity would be disgraced -by the inferior station, in which they are -at present compelled to exist.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>In the early and happiest period of their -lives, the Sisters were totally unconscious -of the magnitude of their claims, and -their minds encouraged no wish to be -greater than they were. Happy in the -humble sphere for which they believed -themselves ordained, happy in the shades -of their mountains, in the tranquillity of -their flowery vallies and glassy lakes, they -considered the scenes which surrounded -them, and which appeared to them so enchanting, -as a beautiful specimen of the -whole world; nor did they ever trouble -their heads with a thought, whether beyond -those mountains, and on the outside -of those vallies, there existed objects which -were deserving of a wish to be acquainted -with. This fortunate unconsciousness -was assiduously preserved in their minds -<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>by those, to whose care they were confided; -and on winter-evenings, when William -Tell had collected all his children -around him (among whom the Sisters -were still reckoned) the stories, with which -he entertained them, always respected some -hero or heroine of ancient Helvetia; so -that nothing was made known to them -except the country which gave them birth, -and they were led to consider nothing as -of importance but what related to that -country, because of that country alone had -they ever been told any thing important. -In the same manner were they instructed -respecting the concerns of human life: -every illustration was selected from the -lower or middling classes of society and -the manners and customs of the great -would have been totally unknown to them, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>had it not been for an old man, over -whose head near a century had past, and -who was a member of the happy family, -in which the Sisters resided. This good -father would often take the two girls -apart from their playmates, and recount -to them particulars of the ancient Houses -of Carlsheim, Torrenburg, and Homburg. -Mary and Rosanna (so were the Sisters -called, while under Tell’s roof) listened -to him with the greatest interest, and -each selected a heroine from among the -Helens, Emmelines, and Uranias, as the -object of her peculiar admiration.</p> - -<p class='c018'>But such ladies of those illustrious families, -as had finished their lives in a cloister, -were sure of obtaining the favour of the -gentle serious Mary. She was not fourteen, -when she made a pilgrimage to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>Convent of Engelberg for the purpose of -kissing the stone, on which Amalberga was -kneeling, when surprised by Landenberg’s -emissaries; and she frequently expressed -a wish, that she might one day be permitted -to take the veil in that Convent, which -had so long given shelter to the heiress of -Sargans.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The laughing Rosanna often added to -this wish an assertion, that her sister -hoped like Amalberga to exchange in due -time the cloister for a bridal garland; but -Mary’s conduct sufficiently proved, that -her religious vocation was at that time no -affectation. She was just sixteen, when -William Tell was obliged to comply with -her entreaties, and suffer her to reside at -Engelberg. He seemed to consent to this -step unwillingly: but he comforted himself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>with the reflection, that the rules of -this House permitted no one to pronounce -the irrevocable vow, who had not completed -her twenty-fifth year; a period, before -whose arrival a thousand accidents -must necessarily have taken place, capable -of shaking the most determined resolutions -and the most ardent zeal.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Rosanna accompanied her sister to the -Convent, and for a few days forced herself -to be pleased and satisfied with the religious -tranquillity of her new abode. But -at length she could no longer conceal from -herself, that nothing save Mary’s society -could have made the manners of a convent -endurable; and that in fact she was -much better calculated for singing and -dancing with her young companions on -the village green, than for attending the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>Abbess and her Nuns to the midnight -mass. She therefore endeavoured to give -her occupations some variety by taking an -active part in the internal arrangements of -the Convent.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Rosanna was beautiful, but as yet no -one had told her so. None of the neighbouring -youths pleased her enough to -make any impression upon <i>her</i>, and the -consequence was, that her charms made -but little impression upon <i>them</i>. With -all her vivacity, there was a certain something -in Rosanna’s manner, which kept -the multitude in awe. Every one admired -her, wished her well, was pleased to see -her join in their amusements, but she produced -no warmer sentiment. A kind of -dignity, of which she was herself unconscious, -prevented the young men from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>being as much at their ease with her, as -with her companions, and kept even the -least abashed of them at a distance: at -length the society was increased by the arrival -of a person, who only required to be -seen, in order to inspire her with a wish to -obtain from him something more than indifference, -or mere dispassionate approbation.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The ancient friendship established between -the families of William Tell and -Henric Melthal was kept up by their descendants -in all its original vigour. A son -of that Alwyn Melthal, who played the -chief part at the capture of Rassburg, was -still alive, and nearly of the same age with -that old relation of William Tell, whom I -formerly mentioned. Both these venerable -men were still fresh and hearty in spite -<span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>of their advanced time of life; such is indeed -the natural effect of breathing the -pure mountain air, and living far from -the vices and excesses of cities. The two -families often met together, and their days -of festivity were always observed in -common.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Old Melthal had several children; but -now it was rumoured, that one of them -called Erwin (whom no one recollected to -have ever heard of before) was just returned -from foreign parts, and that a -great feast was shortly to be given in honour -of his safe arrival. Accordingly, the -venerable chief of the Melthals made a -tour through the neighbouring districts, -for the purpose of inviting his relations -and intimates to assemble on the -green lawn before his house on an appointed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>day; thence to accompany his -newly-arrived son to the old church on -the banks of the Lake, and return thanks -to Heaven for his prosperous return; and -finally, to pass the remainder of the day -and a good portion of the following night -at his expence in various festivities and -amusements.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Tell’s family was one of the first invited: -the expectation of the approaching -entertainment gave a look of joy to every -countenance. In the great world, no one -looks forward to a day marked out for -some amusement with half this enthusiasm: -the hurry of tiresome and expensive -preparations; recollections, how often -on similar occasions we have expected -more amusement, than we received; the -frequent recurrence of such pleasures, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>which robs them of the charm of novelty; -the suggestions of mortified vanity or dissatisfied -pride; all these combine to embitter -the festivals of the great. But here in -the land of innocence and gaiety, here -where no one looks for any pleasure, but -that which he is sure of finding; where -pride and vanity have nothing to do; -where every recollection is delightful, and -the whole expence and preparation consist -in a wreath of fresh-gathered flowers; -here it is, that an invitation to a party of -pleasure is really welcome, and seldom -fails of justifying its name.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The sun was not yet risen, and the -youths and damsels of Tell’s family were -already on their road to Melthal’s cottage. -Lots were cast among the girls to decide, -who should have the honour to conduct -<span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>the procession; the chance fell upon Rosanna. -In consequence, she added to that -which confined her locks, a second wreath -of flowers which she hung round her arm, -ready (as was the custom on such occasions) -to crown the hero of the entertainment. -It was a special privilege enjoyed -by that company of young people, which -arrived first at the place of rendezvous, -that a similar garland to that, with which -themselves were adorned, should ornament -the head of the principal personage, -whereas the garlands of the others could -only be worn by relations of that particular -family; and this privilege was one, -which they valued highly.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Tell’s children, therefore, entreated their -sister Rosanna to hasten forwards, in order -that no one might arrive before them; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>and obliging as she ever was, she quickened -her steps, though solely from the desire to -comply with their wishes: for she little guessed -the sort of youth, for whom her garland -had been woven. She expected to see a person, -who would be as indifferent to her as -all those were, whom she had already seen; -and it was a matter of little concern to -her, whether she ornamented with her -garland the locks of the young Melthal, -or of one of her own relations.</p> - -<p class='c018'>But how were her sentiments changed, -when at the head of her company she arrived -on the brow of a little hill, and -looked down upon Melthal’s cottage! -There sat the old man on a stone bench -before the door; and near him stood a -youth, whose countenance was illumined -by the rosy light of the rising sun, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>whose figure excelled in manly beauty -every thing that she had ever seen, nay -that she had ever thought or dreamt of.—She -started back.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“What!” said she to herself; “can -this be a son of the old Henric Melthal? -No, no! ’tis certainly some angel, or some -saint or martyr at the least. In truth, I -never saw one of the beings, to whom -those names are applied; but I have been -told much respecting such supernatural -Existences, and surely if they ever deign -to visit the earth in human form, they -must needs resemble yonder youth.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Erwin Melthal appeared to be in earnest -conversation with his father: but no -sooner was he aware of the approaching -guests, than he hastened towards them, -and delivered a welcome with such unaffected -<span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>grace and easy dignity, that Rosanna’s -delight and astonishment were raised -to the very highest pitch.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Tell’s family was in fact the first arrived, -and Rosanna’s garland was without a competitor -for the honour of adorning Erwin’s -head; an honour, which she now -no longer looked upon as a matter of indifference, -and which she could not have -consented to make over to one of her companions -without some little movements of -jealousy and dissatisfaction.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She approached the stranger, while her -cheeks were suffused with blushes, and -her hand trembled, as she drew the garland -from her arm. He stood before her -like some well grown cedar, and bowed -down his head a little to be crowned by -the lovely stranger. She hesitated, retired -<span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>a few steps, and looked anxiously round -to her female companions, as if she would -willingly have given up her office to one -of them: while Erwin, either out of respect -and admiration at the heavenly vision -which now stood manifest before him, -or from the more earthly consideration of -the difference between her stature and his -own, sank upon one knee before her, and -in this attitude was crowned by her trembling -hands.</p> - -<p class='c018'>It was an established custom, that the -conductress of the first company that arrived, -on these occasions should be the -partner of the king of the festival during -the whole of the day. Rosanna, who -loved to enjoy the earliest breath of morning -and the glories of the rising sun, had -already frequently obtained this privilege -<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>without its causing her much emotion; -but now when she reflected, that for a -whole day she should be by the side of -Erwin Melthal; that she should kneel on -the same step with him at church; should -join at the same time and almost in the -same breath with him in the most solemn -offices of devotion; should blend her voice -with his in prayers and anthems; and -that at table, in the dance, at every kind -of festivity, she should still have no associate -but Erwin, all this was too much for -her to conceive at once, and her feelings -scarcely permitted her to breathe.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Still she only dared to express those -feelings by looks and blushes: but Erwin, -who felt the same, was not confined like -her by the restraints of decorum. He -made use of the privilege of his sex, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>not only spoke, but spoke so plainly, that -little as Rosanna was skilled in the language -of love, which she then first heard -from his lips, she still understood his -meaning; and little as she ventured to answer, -still before the entertainment concluded, -she had left no doubt upon his -mind, that their affection was mutual. The -embarrassment, which took place at their -first meeting; the gift of her garland; the -religious ceremonies in which they had been -engaged together, and in which each had -stolen a little from that which was destined -for Heaven, for the purpose of bestowing -it on the other; all these circumstances -and a thousand other trifles, which occurred -in the course of the entertainment, assured -them, that an exchange of hearts -had taken place, that their sentiments -<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>were sanctioned by the approbation of -Heaven, and that every thing would turn -out as they wished and expected.</p> - -<p class='c018'>From this day forwards Erwin’s leisure -was totally engrossed by Rosanna. The -habitations of Tell and Melthal were not -so very distant, but that by setting out at -the same time the lovers were certain to -meet halfway, time enough to pass some -hours together undisturbed: besides the -intimate connection, which subsisted between -the two families, furnished too many -opportunities of intercourse, to admit of -their often complaining of long absence -from each other. The passion, which -grew stronger in their bosoms with every -hour, was carefully concealed from every -one; not that they had any reason to apprehend -censure from their superiors; but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>because secrecy seemed to give an additional -charm to the correspondence of their -hearts, and because the goal of their desires -seemed to be still at a considerable -distance.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The venerable Melthal, the youth’s -great-grandfather, had caused him to be -educated in a foreign country, and intended -him for the profession of arms. -Erwin had been long suffered to remain -ignorant, both to what family he belonged, -and to what country he owed his origin: -but the good antient (whom the number -of his years rather than any sensible infirmity -made conscious, that the close of his -existence could not be far removed) now -thought proper to summon his grandson -to a private conference, in which he disclosed -to him many particulars of great -importance.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>—“One more campaign,” said Erwin -to his mistress, the first time that he saw -her after holding this conversation with -old Melthal, “one more campaign under -the Emperor’s banners, in whose service -I am at present engaged; and then will I -hasten back to lay my laurels at the feet of -my Rosanna, confess my love for her, and -fix my habitation with her in that quarter -of the globe, which her fancy shall prefer. -If she thinks proper still to reside in the -shades of her native vallies, there too will -I take up my abode: if she rather desires -to see the world (which in truth has its -charms and can show some scenes, with -which even these enchanting solitudes -must not come in competition) perhaps -her happy Erwin may succeed in procuring -for her there a situation better suited to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>her merits, than that which she must fill -in the obscurity of these retired mountains.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Dear Erwin,” interrupted Rosanna, -“speak no more of this; speak not -of my merits, or of removing me to the -great world! Ah! why must you needs -yourself go thither? Is it not enough to -make me hate that world, that it soon must -rob me of your society? and alas! who -knows, whether you will return from that -wild tumult, which I only know by description, -with sentiments as kind and as -honest and true an heart, as you will bear -away with you!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Poor Rosanna was bathed in tears, -while she made these representations. She -had had dreams, and omens, and forebodings, -which promised nothing good, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>and which her lover soon banished by -means, which every lover (the false as -well as the true) equally practises on similar -occasions. But Erwin was true as the -truest; and his oaths were heard and registered -in the Book of Eternity by the -Angel, who suffers no perjury to escape -unpunished.</p> - -<p class='c018'>There was one person in the world, -with whom Rosanna had been too long -accustomed to share all her joys and all her -sorrows, all her hopes and all her fears, -not to make her feel uneasy under the profound -secrecy, which she had hitherto imposed -on herself respecting her attachment: -that person was Mary. In fact, -she had already suffered some distant hints -to escape her, that she had a secret to communicate; -and at length she summoned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>up all her resolution, and (with Erwin’s -approbation) set forward one morning for -the Convent of Engelberg, determined to -lay her whole heart open to her sister’s inspection.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Though Mary found her own felicity -within the bounds of cloistered retirement, -her notions were too liberal to make her -consider it as improper, that Rosanna -should seek for happiness in the arms of an -affectionate husband. With folded hands -and a countenance bright with tranquil -joy, she piously invoked a blessing on her -sister’s union with the honest-hearted Erwin; -though she could not help lamenting -with a sigh, that he should have adopted -the profession of Blood! Before they separated, -it was settled between the Sisters, -that on an appointed day Rosanna should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>conduct her lover to the Convent, in order -that Mary might become personally -acquainted with her future brother.</p> - -<p class='c018'>This interview was not difficult to be -procured; Mary had not yet pronounced -her vows, and was left at perfect liberty -to employ her time, as she thought proper. -Yet partly from a wish to make the business -no more public than could be avoided, -and partly from a movement of religious -enthusiasm which forcibly operated upon -her imagination, Mary desired, that the -meeting should not take place, till the -evening was on the point of closing.</p> - -<p class='c018'>It was in autumn, and the weather -proved gloomy. Mary had provided herself -with a key of the Chapel, and it was -in this awful place, that she received the -lovers. A small porch, faintly lighted by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>the glimmerings of a distant lamp, witnessed -their first meeting. Mary (who -in spite of her extreme youth had already -adopted the dignity and grave character -appropriate to her destined station) spoke -long and seriously to the warrior, respecting -the sincerity of his attachment and the sacred -nature of his engagement to Rosanna. -His answers were such as she most -desired to hear; and she now conducted -them into the Chapel, where she had already -placed two burning tapers before an -altar consecrated to Saint Engeltruda.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Kneel,” said she, “kneel upon -the stone, on which Amalberga was -kneeling when seized by the sacrilegious -Landenberg; kneel, and swear in -the presence of God and of this chapel’s -Patron-Saint, never even in thought to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>swerve from the strictest rules of eternal -truth and unsullied virtue: so shall this -place be cleansed from the pollution, which -it contracted from the impure steps of the -virgin’s ravisher!—May Landenberg’s fate -be thine, Erwin, shouldst thou ever for -one instant prove faithless to Rosanna!—Never -may’st thou, Rosanna, find in the -time of need such a preserver as Amalberga -found in Eginhart, shouldst thou ever -forget the man, to whom I now solemnly -betroth thee in the face of listening -Heaven.—Let nothing part you, but the -grave!—And should hereafter either of -you from inconstancy or caprice rend -asunder the sacred bonds, with which I -now unite your fates for ever, that instant -shall my form (be I living, or be I -dead) stand before you threatening and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>awful, and warn you to return to the -paths of propriety and duty!—But peace, -everlasting peace be with the bosoms of -faith, and may the wings of angels overspread -them and preserve them!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Erwin and Rosanna, as they gazed on -the lovely form, which stood before them -illuminated by the pale light of the consecrated -tapers, fancied themselves in the -presence of some celestial being. They -thought, that in her words they heard the -voice of her Patron-Saint; they swore -fidelity while life should last, and Mary -kissed and blessed them.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She then accompanied them to the -Chapel-porch; and the betrothed or rather -the espoused lovers (for as such they now -considered themselves) bent their course -homewards beneath a sky heavy with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>the dews of an autumnal evening. Not -one syllable did they exchange, as they -past along; a gentle pressure of the hand -occasionally was the only manner, in which -they gave token of their feelings. Yet -was their joy not quite unclouded; a secret -heaviness weighed down their hearts: -melancholy forebodings forbade their -abandoning themselves entirely to the delightful -thought—“We are united for -ever!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>The three actors in this solemn and singular -scene had not enveloped their secret -in so impenetrable a veil, as they imagined; -and this transaction was the means of their -meeting with many severe reproofs from -those, to whom they were in subjection. -The youthful devotee had been watched -by an inquisitive Nun; and the respectable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>office, which she had thought proper -to perform on this occasion, was made -known to the Abbess the next morning. -Severe were the censures past by that -good lady on Mary’s boldness, in assuming -a character so ill adapted to her time -of life. On the other hand, each of the -lovers was closeted by the chief of their -respective families; and many representations -were laid before them in these private -conferences, which seemed to make great -impression on the minds of both, though -they had not the smallest effect in diminishing -their mutual attachment. At -their next meeting Erwin revealed not to -Rosanna one word of the conversation, -which he had held with his grandfather -Melthal; neither on <i>her</i> side was Rosanna -more communicative of the information, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>which she had gained from the old William -Tell. They only confest to each -other, that the main-topic of both these -secret conferences had been reasons for -their renouncing their so lately contracted -union; and the question was exchanged—“Whether -what each had heard, but -which neither revealed, was of such force, -as to authorize their breaking vows, which -had been pronounced with such solemnity”—“No!”—uttered -in a tone so positive, -as to convey in it a renewal of all -their former oaths, was the reply on both -sides: yet they agreed to commit their -cause to Heaven and Time, and to suffer, -to hope, and to believe, what (in secret -each was compelled to own) appeared then -to be impossible.</p> - -<p class='c018'>That Erwin and Rosanna were mutually -<span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>attached to each other, had been long suspected; -but the fact was now made -known throughout the Province, and the -prejudice ran universally in favour of the -lovers. The youths and damsels exclaimed -loudly against the severity of the two -fathers; and even the old people shook -their heads, and let a few words escape -them now and then about inexplicable obstinacy. -They declared, that Melthal’s -son and Tell’s daughter seemed to be formed -for one another, that they ought to be -united, and that united they would be -some day or other, happen what might. -Whenever they encountered the dejected -lovers, they never failed to whisper some -kind exhortations to be faithful, and to -hope for better times; while on the other -hand their young companions were anxious -<span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>to furnish them with opportunities -of meeting, and frequently in their village -festivals the lovers suddenly found themselves -encircled by the same chain of -flowers, and heard every voice unite in -singing the praise of their tender attachment -and their wishes for its happy issue. -A thousand ballads were made upon them, -some plaintive, some gay, and they circulated -from mouth to mouth with rapidity; -for the love of Erwin and Rosanna -was an affair, in which the whole -Province felt itself interested.</p> - -<p class='c018'>This universal good-will, however, advanced -their cause but little. When they -were alone, each spoke of eternal fidelity -and insurmountable difficulties; each -made it evident, that a secret sorrow -weighed heavy upon the heart; each -<span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>found fault with the father of the other, -and declared him to be extremely in the -wrong; while the father of the speaker -was asserted to be perfectly in the right, -at the same time that to obey him was acknowledged -to be impossible. As to the two -old men, they took no steps towards an -explanation. It was rather observed, that -from this time forward they shunned each -other’s society, and seemed by the mutual -distance thus suddenly created between -them, to give their children a hint of the -conduct, which they expected them also -to adopt.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Sooner than they were aware, chance -relieved them from the troublesome employment -of watching over the lovers. -Erwin was unexpectedly summoned to -join the Emperor’s army, and the orders -<span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>were so pressing, as not even to permit -his taking leave of his mistress. Yet as -he past by it on his road, he said a short -but fervent prayer in the Chapel of Engelberg; -he commended himself and his fortunes -to the protection of that Saint, who -had heard his vows pronounced; and -Mary being fortunately among the Nuns, -and within reach of his eye, he implored -her by signs to bear his melancholy greeting -to her sister. Mary perfectly understood -the meaning of those signs; though -it was long, before an opportunity presented -itself for complying with his wish. -Ever since her culpable interference in unhallowed -love-affairs, the virtuous Lady -Abbess had caused a strict watch to be -kept over Mary; and though Rosanna’s -heart was full and greatly needed the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>consolations of a sister’s tenderness, she -still hesitated to visit Engelberg. The secret, -which the old Tell had revealed to her, -was a dead weight upon her heart; she -knew well, that it was her duty to make -it immediately known to Mary, who was -no less interested in it than herself; and -she trembled to hear the decision, which -(she doubted not) would be pronounced -even by her truest friend and the partial favourer -of her love, as soon as she should be -made acquainted with the real nature of -the case.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The useful art of penmanship, which a -century before had been familiar in these -parts, and practised by persons totally unconnected -with learned pursuits, even by -women, (as the annals of the Ladies of -Sargans testify,) at the present period -<span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>was fallen into neglect. With the exception -of some few characters of distinguished -merit, it was confined to the -clergy, and alas! in this respect Erwin -and Rosanna were completely laical: neither -was it safe or prudent to confide -their tender secrets to the discretion of -chance messengers; and it necessarily followed, -that the lovers were but seldom -informed of the proceedings of each -other. Common fame however occasionally -brought the maid tidings of her warrior -not less strange than satisfactory; -and the girls of the Valley frequently were -able to comfort their sorrowing companion -with reports, which asserted Erwin’s -heroism to be only equalled by his good -fortune. Rosanna’s heart readily gave -credit to assertions so flattering; and she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_347'>347</span>was too well disposed to believe them, to -require much proof of their veracity; -nay, she sometimes was so completely fascinated -by the illusions of Fancy, that she -could not refrain from communicating her -hopes to the venerable Tell.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Surely, my good father,” would -she say to him, “should Erwin return to -me crowned with honour and renown; -should he be really what Fame asserts, the -favourite of his Emperor, what is more -probable, than that the lowness of his origin -should be sunk in the splendour of -some new-acquired title, and his merits be -rewarded by his elevation to some station -of importance? and in that case, where -would be the impropriety of my giving -him my hand? and what obstacle would -my mother’s injunctions oppose any longer -to our union?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_348'>348</span>The old man on hearing such observations -never failed to exclaim against the -credulity of young minds, and to warn -the exulting girl against the painful effect, -which evil tidings would produce upon -her mind with as much facility and with -still greater violence. They say, that Age -often possesses the gift of second-sight; it -is at least certain, that what Tell foreboded, -happened but too soon. On a -sudden, Rosanna’s Companions greeted her -arrival no more with chearful songs of encouragement -and hope; the name of the -heroic Erwin now was never suffered to -pass their lips; when she enquired, whether -no tidings of him had reached the -Valley, her question was evaded. At -length the deep mourning, in which the -Melthal family appeared, made public the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_349'>349</span>dreadful intelligence, which her friends -had so long concealed from her, and the -relation of which struck her senseless to -the earth, as if it had been a flash of lightning. -Erwin had accompanied his sovereign -to relieve the Fortress of Bender, -which was besieged by Sultan Amurath, -and in an unsuccessful attack upon the -enemy’s camp had fallen as became a warrior. -The whole Valley was afflicted at his -loss; the old Melthal was inconsolable. -Shortly afterwards he left his home to -visit the Castle of a nobleman, who had -been long his patron and his friend, and -he returned no more. Death surprised -him on his journey; and his children -brought nothing back but his bones, which -they buried in his native land, that land -which through life he had ever loved so -dearly!</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_350'>350</span>It seemed, as if at this period every kind -of misfortune had conspired to ruin this -once so happy Province. It was visited -by continual storms, such as had never before -taken place within the memory of -man: the mountain-torrents deluged the -country with unusual fury; nor was it -possible for the cultivators, industrious as -they were, to bring their ruined fields -into order again, till a considerable time -had elapsed. The crops failed; prices -rose; at length the distress became universal, -and it was soon followed by the -twin-sisters of Death, Famine and Disease.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Rosanna saw so many of the venerable -fathers of the Valley sink into the grave, -and wept over the tombs of so many of her -youthful friends, that she could not but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_351'>351</span>expect the lot soon to fall upon herself and -her good old grandfather. The first was -as earnestly desired by Her, who languished -to embrace her Erwin in the land of -shadows, as the latter was looked forward -to with terror. She anxiously wished to -lengthen the days of one, who was now almost -her only friend, and she implored -him to retire for a while from a spot become -so dangerous. It was not far from -Tell’s habitation to the Convent of Engelberg, -and there the plague had not as yet -commenced its ravages. Mary obtained -permission from the Abbess to take possession -of an uninhabited monastery, -which made part of the domains of Engelberg; -and she now hastened like some -benevolent Angel to guide her sickening -relations to the place of refuge, which she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_352'>352</span>had found for them, and where she proposed -to be their nurse herself. As many -as were still capable of moving, blest her, -and followed her to the Monastery; Rosanna -and Tell made part of the melancholy -caravan, which Death had taken -care to prevent from being numerous. In -defiance of the extreme danger, Mary resided -with them, and administered to -their necessities with her own hands. Her -exertions were crowned with their deserved -success; she had the happiness of -rescuing all her patients from the grave, -except the grey-headed Tell. Yet even -He did not fall a martyr to the plague; -Mary’s unceasing efforts had relieved him -from that poisonous enemy; but the -weight of near an hundred years prest -him down, and forbade his ever rising -<span class='pageno' id='Page_353'>353</span>again from that bed, from whose side, during -the time of his most imminent danger, -he had vainly entreated Mary and her -sister to retire and attend to their own -preservation.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“My children,” said he at length, -when no doubt remained that the hour of -his death was at hand, “I feel, that we -must part: and long as my worldly course -has lasted, still at its close does nothing -press heavy on my heart except the reflection, -that I leave your fate and fortunes -undecided. Rosanna, have you communicated -to your sister those circumstances, -which I thought fit to lay before you, in -order that you might be convinced, that -an union with Erwin Melthal would be ill-sorted -and improper in every point of -view?”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_354'>354</span>Rosanna replied in the negative; she -had of late found but few opportunities, -she said, of seeing her sister; and -even when they were together, the Lady -Abbess (whose notions of decorum had -been greatly shocked at the share, which -Mary had taken in the Chapel-scene) had -watched them with such vigilance, as effectually -prevented any confidential communications. -She concluded her apology -for having so long neglected to obey his -injunctions, by entreating him to suffer -Mary to retain the pleasing illusion that -she had a right to his affection; an illusion, -with which she herself had parted -so unwillingly.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“It must not be,” answered the expiring -Tell; “it is necessary, that both of -you should be aware, that you are no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_355'>355</span>grandchildren of mine. The story of -your birth is long; Rosanna is informed -of all the circumstances, and will relate -them to you, my gentle Mary, at some -hour of leisure: at present learn from me -such points, as are most essential.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“You and your sister are the sole remaining -descendants of the younger -branch of the ancient and illustrious families -of Carlsheim and Sargans. That you -have past so large a portion of your lives -in obscurity, and that your great expectations -are still in so questionable a state, -you must accuse the superstitious obstinacy -of the Countess, your deceased mother. -She was a daughter of the Count -of Mayenfield, and her extraordinary -beauty made her the object of universal -admiration. Among her suitors were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_356'>356</span>numbered the heads of the two families of -Torrenburg and Werdenberg, both equally -descended from the united House of -Carlsheim and Sargans. The latter was -accepted; the former was not only rejected, -but even held by your mother in the -most absolute detestation. On the contrary, -the Count of Torrenburg (who is -still alive, and whose excellent heart never -harboured resentment against any human -being,) not only forgave the slight, but -continued on the most friendly terms -with his successful rival. He succeeded in -expelling from his bosom his unfortunate -passion, bestowed his heart on another -lady more capable of estimating its worth, -and his marriage was blest with two sons, -as was that of the Count of Werdenberg -with two daughters. On this fortunate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_357'>357</span>occurrence taking place, the fathers entered -into the most solemn engagements to -unite their children in marriage, and by -this means blend inseparably their mutual -claims upon the inheritance of each other.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“My lovely girls, you were these daughters -thus betrothed while in the cradle: I -cannot express to you the repugnance, -with which your mother entertained the -idea, that she should one day hear you -call the sons of the Count of Torrenburg -by the name of husband. The antipathy, -which she bore that family, was increased -a thousandfold by the death of her husband; -on which event the great domains -of your father (according to the long-established -customs of the Houses, to which -you owe your origin) fell to the only remaining -male heirs of the Counts of Carlsheim -<span class='pageno' id='Page_358'>358</span>and Sargans, the Count of Torrenburg -and his sons. The prospect of recovering -the whole of this inheritance by your -union with those sons, and the generous -offers made by their father for her accommodation, -had no effect in softening her -animosity: she felt, that it was less disagreeable -to lose every thing and sacrifice -both herself and you, than to depart in -any degree from her obstinate resolution.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Accordingly she quitted the Castle of -Werdenberg in the greatest privacy, and -concealed herself in my humble habitation. -I had been long known to her, and in general -had been honoured with her confidence; -but she carefully hid from me the -real situation of her affairs and the true -motives of her conduct. She did not -long survive the loss of her husband; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_359'>359</span>grief for his death and vexation at the -good fortune of Torrenburg rapidly destroyed -her health. On her death-bed she -demanded from me a solemn oath, that I -would adopt her orphan-daughters for my -own, and would bring them up according -to the instructions, which after her decease -I should find conveyed in writing.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“That your prudent mother should prefer -your being educated in the lap of rural -innocence and tranquillity, rather than in -the tumult of the great world, did not -surprise me in the least, and I readily -gave the oath demanded. But when after -her death I learned from her papers the -whole extent of my promise, and found -myself enjoined to spread the report of -your death, and never to disclose your -real names, unless circumstances should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_360'>360</span>give you a just claim to the inheritance of -your ancestors, my surprise was extreme; -and gladly would I have called back the -oath, which your mother had carried with -her into the grave, and which therefore -was irrevocable.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“As the case stood, no choice was left -me, and I was compelled to obey your -mother’s injunctions respecting your education. -It greatly comforted me to find, -that the secret of your real station was -not confined to myself. The deceased -Countess mentioned in her will, that the -Bishop of Coira and the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald -(both of them related to her -though but distantly) were aware of her -design, and had sanctioned it with their -consent; and I concluded, that since her -determination had found favour in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_361'>361</span>eyes of such learned and respectable persons, -it must needs have claims to approbation, -which my own understanding was -too short-sighted to discover.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“It is possible,” it was thus that the -Countess exprest herself in her last will; -“it is possible, however trifling the probability -seems at present, that the family -of Torrenburg may become extinct; or -that it may please Heaven to deprive it of -male heirs, as it has been pleased to deprive -the family of Werdenberg. In that -case, let the claims of my daughters be advanced, -and the documents produced, -which are deposited in the hands of the -Bishop of Coira, and in the archives of -Cloister-Curwald: for the rights of these -consolidated families are so ordained, that -the daughters can only lay claim to the inheritance -<span class='pageno' id='Page_362'>362</span>of their ancestors, in case no -male heir should exist; a regulation, on -whose justice I am too little learned to -give an opinion, and whose effect I possess -too little power to counteract.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“But as it is possible, that my orphan -daughters may one day become the heiresses -of Sargans, care must be taken to -prevent their adopting any measure, -which may make them blush at recollecting -the obscurity, in which they are to -pass their early years. I desire therefore, -that you William Tell (whom I appoint -their guardian) should not only bring -them up innocently and virtuously, but -should make them mistresses of as many -elegant accomplishments, as circumstances -will admit. Above all I command you on -no account to suffer them to contract a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_363'>363</span>marriage unsuitable to their illustrious -birth. Unless a mother’s fondness deceives -me, they will be singularly beautiful. -Providence ever watches over the -orphan’s destiny; and perhaps even in -their humble station their charms may attract -the observant glance of some young -nobleman. Should such be the case, William -Tell is at liberty to remove all obstacles -to such an union, by revealing to the -lover the real name of the parents of my -daughters; and I also absolve him from -his oath in so far, as to authorize him to -disclose to themselves the secret of their -illustrious origin, whenever they are sufficiently -arrived at years of discretion, to -make such a disclosure necessary or useful.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Here is this important paper,” resumed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_364'>364</span>Tell after a short pause, for this -long discourse had greatly exhausted him; -“you will read it over together at your -leisure: but one thing more I must observe -to you. The Countess was no less -averse to the seclusion of a convent than -to ill-assorted marriages.—In one place -(which I have pointed out for Mary’s observation -by three crosses) she writes thus—“Be -the veil the last refuge of my children, -and on no account must either of -them be suffered to assume it before her -six-and-twentieth year. Then, if no more -inviting prospect presents itself, their real -rank may be revealed to the Superior, and -the sums (which I leave for that purpose -in the hands of William Tell) appropriated -to the endowment of the Convent, in -which they think proper to pronounce -their vows.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_365'>365</span>—“I trust,” continued the old man, -“that I have not abused the confidence with -which your noble mother honoured me. -Anxiety to leave no part of her commands -unexecuted made me lose no time in hastening -to the Bishop of Coira and the Abbot -of Cloister-Curwald, and requesting their -advice respecting your future education. -I found them already fully acquainted with -the intentions of the deceased Countess; I -also gathered from some words which escaped -them, that all the singular injunctions -of that lady’s will related to an old -prophecy, by which the daughters of -Werdenberg were threatened with the -most severe mortifications and persecutions -through the means of the family of -Torrenburg. For my own part, I cannot -say, that I lay any great stress upon these -<span class='pageno' id='Page_366'>366</span>old traditions, and even look upon belief -in them as little better than rank superstition: -nay, I am almost persuaded, that the -very means taken to avoid the dangers -with which such prophecies menace us, -frequently produce their accomplishment, -of which (unless I am much deceived) -your own history will furnish an additional -proof. The two reverend gentlemen, -however, were quite of a different opinion -from me on this point; in truth, they received -so ill a hint of this nature which -escaped me, that if I had not held my -tongue in good time, I verily believe, they -would have excommunicated me as an -arch-heretic. Luckily, the business was -not to decide, whether your mother’s opinions -were right, but whether her will -should be obeyed; and on this head all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_367'>367</span>three were of the same way of thinking.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“Annually I made them a visit to lay -before them my proceedings, and receive -instructions respecting your future conduct. -At length they died, both nearly at -the same time, and were succeeded by -Bishop Sigisbert, and Abbot Conrad the -Fourth, who also succeeded to the knowledge -of your secret. The latter of those -prelates (as you probably remember) once -visited our cottage, as it seemed, by accident. -He saw you, and felt himself greatly -interested in your welfare. I have informed -him of my illness, and also of the -melancholy occurrences which have lately -taken place, and which render these vallies -no longer a safe retreat. In his answer, -the good Abbot promises you his protection, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_368'>368</span>proposes to remove you to those -scenes where your noble ancestors once -ruled, and engages (when the proper time -shall be arrived) to support your claims to -the utmost of his power.</p> - -<p class='c018'>“The sons of the Count of Torrenburg -are dead; the Count himself is a widower, -but is not quite so far advanced in years as -to make his contracting a second marriage -highly improbable. Still you have much -to expect from his known generosity of -mind, and I cannot but flatter myself, that -you may look forwards to more fortunate -times! Oh! with what content could I -lay my head down in my grave, were I -but certain that this hope will soon be realized! -But alas! every thing shows itself -to me, as if still at a fearful distance! -Every thing seems covered with a gloomy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_369'>369</span>veil of clouds. Many and many a bitter -sigh must you heave, many and many a -painful step must you tread, ere you regain -that station, whence you have been degraded -by maternal obstinacy and superstitious -prejudice.—Yet take courage, my -children; an invisible hand still guides the -steps of the innocent, and you will find a -powerful friend and safe adviser in the -Abbot of Cloister-Curwald.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Here the old man concluded; his adopted -daughters were silent, and wept.—All -that they had heard, all the glorious prospects, -which were just presented before -them, were unable to overpower the melancholy -conviction, that the hour was arrived, -when they must close the eyes of -that venerable man, who had for so many -years cherished them with all the fondness -<span class='pageno' id='Page_370'>370</span>of a father. In losing him, they foresaw -too the loss of those simple pleasures, -which had made their childhood glide -away so gaily, and for which they feared -to find the advantages of their new situation -but a sorry and incomplete exchange.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Tell visibly became weaker, that is, his -body became so; but his mind preserved -its strength unimpaired, and to the last -moment of sensibility possest its gaiety -and freedom. He had indeed got the better -of that illness, which at first confined -him to a sick couch, but he sank under -the burthen of his years. His heart at -length felt the arrow of death; though in -truth that metaphor is here inapplicable, -for he felt no wound, he endured no pain. -His existence ended in a gradual peaceful -<span class='pageno' id='Page_371'>371</span>slumber; the lamp of his life was extinguished -gently and imperceptibly.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Abbot Conrad arrived before the decease -of Tell, for the purpose of removing the -Sisters: but they implored a short respite. -Gladly would they have remained Tell’s -daughters all their lives; it was no light -blow, that could sever the bonds, by which -they were connected with the good old -man; even Death was unable to effect -this completely, and their affection still -followed him even beyond the grave. -Neither was Conrad anxious to remove -them from the dying man: it was a blessed -sight for him to witness the gentle departure -of a just spirit, and for once to behold -the so-dreaded form of Death arrayed -in the peaceful appearance of a beneficent -Angel. Neither was it an uninteresting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_372'>372</span>sight, to see two girls in the -bloom of youth and beauty turning away -from the brilliant prospects of the world, -to dwell with their whole souls on one of -the most sorrowful and painful scenes, -which can meet the eye of human nature; -to see two highly-born princesses weep at -resigning for such sounding titles the -dearer-ones of daughters and sisters in the -abode of rustic innocence; and to hear -them at the grave of their common ancestor -vow to their former play-mates, -that they should ever hold their relationship -as the most close and precious, though -the whole universe should unite in endeavouring -to efface the recollection of it -from their minds.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Tell’s children could not understand -rightly, what their supposed sisters meant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_373'>373</span>by such assurances; and the Abbot -thought it unnecessary to explain to them -a mystery, which their approaching separation -from the young Countesses of Werdenberg -would soon make sufficiently clear.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The Abbot was obliged to be more communicative -with the Domina of Engelberg. -He found no great difficulty in -obtaining her permission, that Mary (or -Constantia, as she was now called, while -Rosanna resumed her baptismal name of -Ida.... Yes, Elizabeth! Ida and Constantia -were their <i>real</i> names!) that Mary -should for a time make trial of a worldly -life, and should postpone her adoption of -the veil till after the unravelling of her -destiny. Three conditions however were -annexed to the permission; first, that in -case her call to a religious profession should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_374'>374</span>be confirmed, that she should pronounce -her vows in no other Convent than Engelberg; -secondly, that in remembrance -of her cloister-duties she should always -wear the habit of the Order; lastly, that -in case of the worst (by which the pious -lady meant an union with an earthly bridegroom) -she should not assume a worldly -dress till her wedding-day, and should -purchase the permission of renouncing the -veil by a handsome benefaction to the -Convent of Engelberg. The abbot understood -the manners of the cloister, and -agreed to these conditions on behalf of his -wards; who in the mean while heaved -many a sigh, while preparing for a journey, -from which their hearts boded no -good.</p> - -<p class='c018'>In the sphere in which they now moved, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_375'>375</span>every thing appeared strange to them, and -consequently disagreeable, from their not -being accustomed to such manners and -appearances. The splendour of Bishop Sigisbert’s -court (at which they now resided) -was too dazzling to be pleasant to -eyes, which were only used to admire the -simple charms of Nature; and when compared -with those scenes, in which their -childhood had past so happily, everything -which now offered itself to their notice -seemed ridiculous and frequently disgusting.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The Bishop, who felt the greater interest -in the welfare of his young wards on -account of their simplicity and want of -relish for the dissipations of the world, -was soon obliged to consent to their retiring -from his court, and taking refuge -<span class='pageno' id='Page_376'>376</span>in the tranquillity of a Convent at Zurich. -Here Constantia was perfectly at ease; but -Ida, who had been always accustomed to -liberty, was but half satisfied with the restraints -of her abode. Nay, she would -have found them insupportable, had not -the recollection of Erwin Melthal followed -her to the Convent, and made solitude -and silence agreeable, by suffering her to -indulge unrestrained the melancholy of -her heart. In truth, Ida had so little of -that lofty spirit, which should have been -united with her lofty station, that the remembrance -of the son of an humble peasant, -who had perished as an undistinguished -warrior, still was sacred to her -affection; and often did she assure Constantia, -that were he still in existence, she -would rather have renounced her birth-right -<span class='pageno' id='Page_377'>377</span>than the hope of being one day called -his wife.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I concealed my rank from Erwin,” -said she, “that his love might not take -the alarm at hearing the proud title of the -Countess of Werdenberg: but I will not -conceal the affection which I felt, and still -feel for this Erwin, this humble peasant’s -son, this undistinguished warrior, from -any one, should any one hereafter think -proper to demand my hand. No! I will -avow my passion openly and firmly; and -doubtless this confession will be enough to -make my noble suitors abandon a girl, -whose folly sets so little value on illustrious -birth and titles handed down by a -long line of ancestors.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Constantia was a little embarrassed in -answering these declarations. Not being -<span class='pageno' id='Page_378'>378</span>in love, she could not easily reconcile the -union of two such names as Erwin Melthal, -and Ida, Countess of Werdenberg: -yet still she could not efface from her memory -the solemn vows, which had passed -between them; and in particular she -could not but lay great stress upon their -having been affianced before the altar of -St. Engeltruda; a transaction, in which -she had herself borne so principal a part. -However the sum of her reflections was -(though the goodness of her heart made -her sigh, as she confest it) that it was fortunate, -that Erwin’s death had solved all -the difficulties, which would otherwise -have arisen; and she could not but fancy, -that in this event she saw the hand of -Providence, which had preserved from -degradation the honour of the illustrious -House of Werdenberg.</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_379'>379</span>In the mean while the Bishop and Abbot -Conrad were consulting, how they -might best advance the interests of their -young favourites. As they were not influenced -by the prejudices, which made -the late Countess of Werdenberg refuse all -intercourse with the family of Torrenburg, -and as they laid no stress upon the -before-mentioned prophecy, they soon -agreed to take the straight road (which -indeed is always the best) and make the -generous Frederick of Torrenburg immediately -acquainted with the existence and -adventures of his long-forgotten relations. -The Count was old, and without children; -and it was not unlikely, that he would -adopt these orphans, and bring them up -as the future heiresses of his domains. -Under this impression they set forward -<span class='pageno' id='Page_380'>380</span>for his Castle, well provided with letters -and other documents to establish the veracity -of their assertions.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The Abbot has been heard to say, that -when the Count was first informed of the -nature of their embassy, he started and -turned pale; as the Bishop proceeded and -made the fact certain beyond the possibility -of dispute, this paleness gave place to -a burning crimson, and when the tale was -finished, the Count sat for a few moments -lost in silent meditation; circumstances, -from which the friends of the two Sisters -augured nothing good to their cause. The -event however proved that they were mistaken -in imagining, that the generous -Frederick would wilfully close his eyes -against a truth, because it was unpleasant -to him; though what made it so unpleasant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_381'>381</span>to him, they were then at a loss to -conceive.</p> - -<p class='c018'>He bestowed a noble heart-drawn sigh -upon the memory of the Countess of -Werdenberg. He blamed her for having -suffered her prejudices to interfere so -much with the welfare of her daughters, -and engaged to repair the injury, which -she had done them. Accompanied by the -two Prelates he hastened to the Convent -of Zurich, and entreated his new-found -relations to make his abode their own. -Deep was the emotion exprest in his honest -countenance, when he first saw the -Sisters. In them he beheld renewed in -their most brilliant colours the charms of -their mother, whom he had loved so -long and so dearly without success; and -he clasped them to his bosom with tears, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_382'>382</span>which he vainly struggled to conceal. The -girls too felt their hearts attracted towards -the excellent man, and found no difficulty -in considering him in every respect as their -father.</p> - -<p class='c018'>They followed him to his Castle with -willingness, were grateful for the kindness -which he showed them, nor did it ever -enter their thoughts, that it was in his -power to show them more: but the Bishop -was extremely surprised, that although -the Count had acknowledged the validity -of the documents which testified their -birth, and had adopted them as his nieces, -he made no mention of their being entitled -to any part of his inheritance, nor -seemed to have it in his contemplation to -bestow them on proper bridegrooms.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“The little eagerness,” said the Abbot, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_383'>383</span>“which the Count shows for the -wedding of his nieces confirms the report, -that he is thinking of one for himself. I -have already heard it whispered, that he -is attached to a young person, with whom -we are both well acquainted. She is lovely -and virtuous; nobody can blame Count -Frederick’s choice, though perhaps some -people may blame him for making at his -time of life any choice at all.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I am sorry to hear this,” replied -the Bishop; “should children spring from -this union, the claims of our wards will be -completely annihilated.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“In which case will they be made -unhappy?” said the Abbot (who thought -liberally on the subject, and to whom the -lady, on whom the Count’s choice was -supposed to have fallen, was even more -<span class='pageno' id='Page_384'>384</span>dear than Constantia and her sister).—“Their -rank is acknowledged; the -sums left by their mother in our charge -are sufficient to secure them against absolute -want; their desires are moderate; -neither will Frederick’s generosity fail to -provide for them in a manner suitable to -their station. But to expect that he should -sacrifice the point, on which he grounds -the happiness of his whole future life, in -order that his inheritance may descend -unimpaired to these unexpected newcomers, -is really more than I can possibly -justify to myself.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>This conversation was communicated to -the Sisters: they heard it with indifference. -They were too little acquainted -with the world to think much about events, -which might affect their future interests, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_385'>385</span>and were too grateful to their benefactor -to wish for more favours from him, than -such as he could grant without injury to -his own feelings. But had they known -on <i>whom</i> their uncle’s choice had fallen, -they would have offered up their most -fervent prayers for the success of his suit; -and would have looked forward to the -wedding-day with as much heart-felt pleasure, -as to any which they had ever witnessed, -while they were still the daughters -of old Tell and Inhabitants of the happy -Vale of Rutelis.</p> - -<p class='c018'>In the circle of young women, with -whom their near relationship to the Count -of Torrenburg necessarily brought them -acquainted, none attracted their affection -so strongly, as the beautiful Elizabeth of -March. The interest, which Ida felt for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_386'>386</span>this charming stranger was shortly reciprocal: -yet it is probable, that Constantia -would in the end have obtained the largest -share of Elizabeth’s friendship and confidence, -on account of that winning softness -of manner and gentleness of temper, -which made her a much more universal -favourite than her gay and thoughtless -sister, had she not thought proper to retire -for a while from the world not long -after the commencement of her acquaintance -with Elizabeth. In spite of Ida’s remonstrances, -Constantia entreated her -uncle to suffer her to pass some time in -the Convent of Zurich, and easily obtained -her request.</p> - -<p class='c018'>It seems, that lovely as were the Ladies -of Werdenberg, and general as was the -admiration which they excited, still there -<span class='pageno' id='Page_387'>387</span>was not so violent a contest for the possession -of their hands, as the good Bishop -had expected. It was known, that they -were dowerless orphans; and as their uncle’s -marriage (though not publicly spoken -of) was much circulated in whispers, this -event, which was likely to annihilate at -once all the lofty claims of the Sisters, -made their admirers think it to the full as -prudent to confine their admiration for -the present to their own breasts. The -gentle Constantia alone found in the young -Count of Thuringia one, who would have -chosen her as his bride, had she been still -the daughter of the peasant Tell. Constantia -on her side felt, how generous was -the youth’s conduct, and could not doubt -the sincerity of his love: her heart inclined -her to listen to him: but she could -<span class='pageno' id='Page_388'>388</span>not consent to break her religious determinations -so quickly and so lightly; and -she retired into the Convent, that she -might at least weigh the matter maturely, -and try her suitor’s patience and perseverance -a little by the test of time.</p> - -<p class='c018'>After her departure, the friendship of -Elizabeth and Ida acquired strength daily; -though their intercourse was much restricted -by Count Frederick’s evident dissatisfaction -at it, which the unsuspecting -Ida attributed to some unaccountable antipathy -conceived by her uncle against her -lovely friend. The fact was, that with all -his excellent qualities the Count was not -without his weaknesses; among the chief -of which maybe reckoned suspicion, bigotry, -and a fondness for mystery even in the -most innocent things. The last induced -<span class='pageno' id='Page_389'>389</span>him carefully to conceal the proposals -which (under the seal of secrecy) he had -laid before Elizabeth’s father: the first, -made him fancy, that Ida had fathomed his -purpose, and from interested motives had -endeavoured to set her friend against him; -and his superstitious enthusiasm led him to -believe that the best means of obtaining -Elizabeth’s heart and hand was to tell his -rosary more frequently than ever, and bestow -enormous donations on the Church. -He gave much; he promised more; and -those promises were not breathed in inattentive -ears. The Count’s domestic Priest -and the chaplain of the March family found, -that their own advantage was concerned -in the accomplishment of Count Frederick’s -wishes; and they held many a secret -and serious conference on the means -<span class='pageno' id='Page_390'>390</span>of bringing about this union. Besides -the grand inducement of avarice, Father -Hilarius (so was the priest of Torrenburg -named) had additional motives for action. -He looked on the Damsels of Werdenberg -with all that aversion, which old family-servants -ever bear to new-comers; whom -they generally consider as intruders, and -whom they fear, lest by <i>their</i> influence -their own should be diminished. But -with most invincible antipathy did the -Monk regard the gay and thoughtless Ida, -who had sometimes indulged her mirth at -his expence, and whom he was determined -to expel from her uncle’s heart, whatever -trouble it might cost him.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Elizabeth by this time had no secrets -for Ida. She informed her, that her parents -had promised her hand to a powerful -<span class='pageno' id='Page_391'>391</span>nobleman, and had ordered her in the most -peremptory manner to prepare for the reception -of her future husband, without -even condescending to inform her of his -name or situation. However, she was in -truth little curious respecting him, for her -heart was already bestowed upon another.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Yes!” said she to Ida, “I love -Count Henry of Montfort, and have -every reason to believe, that I am beloved -in return most sincerely. Be this unknown -bridegroom whom he may, he -will find himself only an object of aversion -in the eyes of Elizabeth of March.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Ida, judging by her own attachment to -the deceased Erwin, agreed, that to banish -from the heart the image of an adored -lover was quite impossible: and Elizabeth -was so well-pleased with her friend’s mode -<span class='pageno' id='Page_392'>392</span>of reasoning, that she embraced her with -redoubled affection. Ida advised her by -no means to give up Count Henry; and -Elizabeth on the other hand promised solemnly -to follow that advice, which was -so perfectly in unison with her own inclinations.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I am grieved to think,” said Elizabeth, -“that probably in future we shall -be suffered to meet but seldom! I have -already received some hints, that my parents -suspect you of not giving me such -counsels, as they could wish; and yet in -the present situation of my affairs it is so -necessary for me to possess some feeling -heart, to whom I can apply for sympathy -and advice!—However, we shall still be -able to correspond privately; and those -communications may be made in writing, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_393'>393</span>which the enemies of our friendship forbid -us to impart in conversation.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Ida unluckily knew nothing of the art -of writing on her first arrival at the Castle -of Torrenburg; and since that time she -had made but little progress under the tuition -of Father Hilarius. She blushed, -while she confest this ignorance; however, -on examination Elizabeth was of -opinion, that her friend was already sufficiently -advanced to answer all necessary -purposes.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I shall require no circumstantial -answers from you,” said she; “a single -expressive word will be enough to convey -to me your opinion of my situation, and -guide me in my difficulties: a “yes” or -“no” will in general be sufficient to decide -my conduct. On my side, I will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_394'>394</span>take care to write so large a hand that it can -be easily read, and to express myself in a -manner that shall be intelligible only to -yourself. Then if you are <i>quite</i> at a loss -respecting any part of my letters, you -may show the isolated passage to your -chaplain Father Hilarius. He is a simple -good kind of man, whose understanding -is not keen enough to pierce through our -mystery, and who may easily be deceived -by two young girls with all their wits -about them.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>This “simple good kind of man,” as -Elizabeth called him, the pious Father -Hilarius, was perfectly astonished at the -diligence, with which Ida now prosecuted -her studies under his direction. Hitherto -he had found her a very inattentive pupil, -and as long as his lessons lasted, Ida -<span class='pageno' id='Page_395'>395</span>was accustomed to yawn without intermission: -on a sudden she was seized with -the greatest fondness for that, which hitherto -had inspired her with nothing but -disgust: she even requested, that an additional -hour’s instruction might be allowed -her every day; and as Father Hilarius -was not <i>quite</i> so simple as the girls had -imagined, he concluded, that there must -be some secret cause for this unexpected -love of literature. An epistolary intercourse, -arising from some love-affair, naturally -suggested itself to his mind; and -he determined to watch with the eyes of -an Argus, whether he could not make -some discovery to the prejudice of his detested -pupil.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Ida soon received a pressing invitation -to visit Elizabeth; the Count’s permission -<span class='pageno' id='Page_396'>396</span>was requested; but as he was now on the -point of declaring himself, and conceived -that the presence of his lineal heiress could -by no means be advantageous to his suit, -that permission was refused. Elizabeth -therefore had recourse to her pen, and -Ida soon received the following letter.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“I told you, that I had every reason -to think that he loved me: alas! I fear, -that I deceived myself. He knows my -situation; knows, how I am persecuted; -and yet he offers no friendly advice for my -relief, nay even seems to decline every -opportunity of visiting the Castle. He is -at present with his uncle, who is too -closely connected with my parents to favour -an attachment, which would disappoint -their views. Perhaps, he even insists -upon Henry’s giving up every -<span class='pageno' id='Page_397'>397</span>thought of me!—The bridegroom of my -father’s choice has not yet revealed himself: -I am still ignorant of all, except that -he is rich, powerful, and <i>old</i>; but I am -threatened with his speedy arrival, and -have been assured, that the day in which -I am presented to him, shall be that of -my nuptials.—Write to me, dear Ida, and -say, what course I should follow: the -danger is urgent.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>The messenger, who brought this letter, -waited for an answer: it was with infinite -difficulty, that Ida contrived to -scrawl the following words.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Write to your Henry: if he loves -you, he will hasten to your relief.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Several letters followed the foregoing; -though Ida was frequently unable to decypher -whole sentences of Elizabeth’s, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_398'>398</span>Elizabeth was sometimes completely at a -loss to guess the meaning of Ida’s pot-hooks. -But the next letter of any consequence -ran as follows—</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Though he is the friend of my parents, -my lover’s uncle is not my enemy. -He read the letter which I addrest to -Henry, and permitted him to obey it. -Henry has done so: Henry is here, and -says that he is come to save me: but -how?—Many a bold resolution presents -itself to my thoughts, but all are too desperate -to be adopted without advice. Decide -for me, my friend; I will follow your -judgment implicitly.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>To this, Ida answered—“Fly with your -Henry, and take refuge in his uncle’s -Castle. In <i>your</i> situation, <i>I</i> would not have -hesitated to follow Erwin through the -world!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'><span class='pageno' id='Page_399'>399</span>This reply was not received, till the -Count of Torrenburg had been presented -to Elizabeth as the man, to whom her -hand was destined. The repugnance, with -which she listened to his declaration, was -too visible to escape his notice; but as -her parents gave him the most solemn assurances, -that her heart (though not yet -disposed in his favour) was still free from -any other attachment, he persisted in his -addresses. He persuaded himself, that his -assiduities must in the end make him -master of her affections, if once her hand -became his property; and he looked forward -with impatience to the nuptial-day, -which was already fixed, and at no great -distance.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Ida’s reply arriving at this critical moment, -produced a rejoinder from her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_400'>400</span>friend, which put her in no slight embarrassment; -for the greatest part of it was -totally unintelligible to her. Of Elizabeth’s -former letters she had frequently -failed in decyphering the <i>words</i>; but in -the present epistle, even where she had -overcome that difficulty, the <i>sense</i> frequently -appeared to her as obscure as -ever.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Ah! my sweet friend! how precious -should I esteem your last advice, -could I but be certain, that in giving it -you were prompted by no motive but affection -for Me. You cannot be ignorant, -that all mystery is now laid aside; the -dreaded bridegroom is arrived; and -doubtless <i>you</i> must have been made aware -of his intentions, long before my parents -thought proper to communicate them to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_401'>401</span>myself. When therefore you counsel me -to shun this marriage by flight, can I -avoid apprehending lest <i>interest</i>.... Ah! -forgive me these suspicions, dear Ida! I -will not doubt the sincerity of your -friendship.—Yet flight is difficult, dangerous, -disgraceful; Henry himself is unwilling -to resort to this clandestine means of -rescue! On the other hand, this hated -Bridegroom.... Why do they tell me of -his wealth and power? What are they to -<i>me</i>? What are the domains of Carlsheim, -Torrenburg, and Sargans, when balanced -against Henry’s heart?—I know not what -to do!—Once more, dear Ida! but <i>once</i> -more advise me! Lay aside every interested -motive, which might prompt your -counselling me to flight; assure me, that -friendship alone dictates your decision; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_402'>402</span>and then if you still bid me trust my fate -to Henry, I will throw myself into his -arms, and bid adieu to the Castle of -March.... alas! perhaps for ever!”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Again and again did Ida read this letter, -and still found herself as far as ever from -understanding it. She would gladly have -submitted it to some more learned head -than her own; but her sister was absent, -and prudence forbade her communicating -it to the chaplain. Above all, the line -which contained the three difficult words -“<i>Torrenburg</i>,” “<i>Carlsheim</i>,” and “<i>Sargans</i>” -set all her skill at defiance; and -she could not but fancy, that were she -once mistress of the meaning of that one -line, it would make the rest of the letter -quite intelligible.—And then what harm -could there be in showing a stranger that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_403'>403</span>single passage? The reader would certainly -be able to gain but little information -from it; and arguing thus, she cut the -passage out of the letter, and hastened to -request Father Hilarius to give her the interpretation.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Father Hilarius (whose activity was quite -indefatigable, when exerted to find out -what could injure his enemies, among -whom he numbered the innocent Ida) already -suspected the secret correspondence -between his pupil and Elizabeth. The -subject of it, however, was still unknown -to him; but now the whole was as clear -as day-light. He read what was shown to -him, guest the remainder, and malicious -pleasure sparkled in his eyes. To put the -matter beyond a doubt, he pretended, -that it was impossible to understand the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_404'>404</span>meaning of a passage so detached, and demanded -a sight of the whole epistle. This, -however, was refused him: upon which he -declared it to be his opinion, that “the -difficult words in question must be Greek; -for <i>his</i> part, he could make neither head -nor tail of them.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Ida went away out of all patience! -However, as she could not discover, that -her friend’s situation had undergone any -material alteration since her last letter, she -at length determined at all events to send -her the same answer: accordingly the -messenger was despatched with a note -containing only——“Flight! instant -flight.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>Ida’s belief, that the bands of love once -formed could never be broken (together -with other romantic notions, which she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_405'>405</span>had imbibed among the Helvetian mountains, -respecting justice and injustice, liberty -of the heart, and suitability in marriage) -must plead her excuse for the rash -advice, which in the simplicity of her nature -she gave her friend; advice, which -afterwards operated to her prejudice so -strongly, that it nearly ruined her reputation -and her whole happiness in life. She -counselled Elizabeth to take that step -which (had she been herself the heroine of -the adventure) she would herself undoubtedly -have taken: this was the utmost -extent of her error; this, and no more!</p> - -<p class='c018'>The advice was given; the advice was -followed. A few days elapsed, and she -heard, that the whole country was in an -uproar. The beautiful Elizabeth of March -had eloped with Henry of Montfort; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_406'>406</span>her brother Oswald, assisted by the forces -of the Count of Torrenburg, had set forward -in pursuit of the fugitives.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Ida was delighted to find, that her advice -had been carried into execution with -so much success: she only feared, lest the -lovers should be overtaken by their pursuers, -among whom she grieved to hear -her uncle numbered; she was still ignorant, -how deeply he was interested in this -affair, and concluded that he was actuated -to take a part in it by the friendship, -which had so long subsisted between himself -and the old Count of March.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Her prayers and wishes were half accomplished, -half rejected. The lovers -were overtaken: but Count Oswald of -March was fondly attached to his sister; -some well-disposed persons kindly interfered; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_407'>407</span>Count Frederick voluntarily resigned -his pretensions; and it was finally -resolved, that the errors of love should -be pardoned, and the fugitives united in a -public and customary manner. In truth, -no one could deny, that Henry was a -much more suitable partner for the blooming -Elizabeth, than her destined bridegroom, -the age-stricken Count of Torrenburg.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Ida was not long without hearing from -her friend: this letter, (the last which -she ever received from Elizabeth,) induced -her to take a step, which filled up -the measure of her mischances, and not -only deprived her of the favour of her deceived -uncle, but totally ruined her in the -general opinion.</p> - -<p class='c018'>—“Ida! dear Ida! authoress of all my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_408'>408</span>present happiness! How wise was your -advice! How perfectly has it succeeded! -Yet a few days, and I shall become the wife -of Henry. Still I shall feel my pleasure -incomplete, unless I can thank you for it -with an embrace on my bridal-day. Come -then, my friend! come to place the garland -on my brow<a id='r5' /><a href='#f5' class='c019'><sup>[5]</sup></a>, and rejoice in the work -of your prudence! You will find your -sister with me: it was easy for her to obtain -a dispensation from her Abbess. I -rejoice, that your uncle is now in a distant -part of the country, as in the present -moment you would certainly have been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_409'>409</span>refused permission to come to me. As it -is, resolve to brave the hazard of a few -frowns at his return; he will soon forget -his displeasure at your witnessing my -nuptials, being totally ignorant of every -thing which might seriously make him offended -with you, and which (you may be -assured) shall never come to his knowledge.—But -though concealed from all -others, the friendly part which you have -acted in this business, shall never be forgotten -by the grateful heart of your Elizabeth.</p> - -<div class='fn'> - -<div class='footnote' id='f5'> -<p class='c020'><span class='label'><a href='#r5'>5</a>. </span>This alludes to a custom still preserved in many -parts of Germany: the bride wears a myrtle-wreath -during the nuptial-ceremony, and it is usual -for her on the day after her marriage to present this -wreath to that female friend, to whom she is most -attached.</p> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c018'>“Then haste to me, my friend! I -burn with impatience to make my Henry -known to you: he too is impatient to see -the friend of his Betrothed, the kind adviser, -to whom the Happy-ones owe their -happiness. I have resolved, that this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_410'>410</span>wished-for introduction shall take place at -the altar, before which I am to pronounce -the nuptial vow. I confess, this decision -is in some degree dictated by selfish motives: -were Henry to see the lovely Ida of -Werdenberg, before it is too late for him to -retract with honour, who knows but her -charms might make him faithless to the less -fair Elizabeth?—Ah! dearest Ida, you are -conscious, that I do but jest; I know well -the heart of my friend, and the honour of -my lover! Forgive then the fantastic humours -of a girl already half wild with her -happiness, and refuse not to make by your -presence that happiness still greater.”—</p> - -<p class='c018'>A great part of this letter was as little -understood by Ida as the former one; -however, she took good care not to employ -the Chaplain to explain the meaning. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_411'>411</span>She doubted not his opposing her departure -for the Castle of March, since her -uncle (though for what reason she could -not imagine) would disapprove of her visit; -and in the Count’s absence she was -totally under the direction of Father Hilarius. -Ida therefore contented herself -with understanding from the letter, that -she was invited to a wedding, at which -the successful counsels which she had -given (together with other friendly services -which she had rendered the happy -pair) would make <i>her</i> an important personage; -at which she should meet her -sister Constantia, and doubtless many -other of her youthful friends; and where -she should exhibit her beauty to the best -advantage, and should dress, dance, sing, -and laugh, as she had frequently done on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_412'>412</span>similar occasions on the blooming lawn -of Rutelis. This was enough for her to -know, and to determine her proceedings. -On the appointed day Elizabeth sent a -small body of attendants to wait for her -friend in a wood at no great distance from -the Castle of Torrenburg. Ida failed not -to join them there; and without bidding -adieu to Father Hilarius, she very quietly -set forward for the Castle of March.</p> - -<p class='c018'>She reached it in safety, and soon found -herself clasped in the arms of her delighted -friend. There too she had the happiness -of once more embracing Constantia. -The two Sisters past the intervening time -between their arrival and the wedding-day -with Elizabeth in her apartment; -where (according to the custom of our -times) on such occasions no man was permitted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_413'>413</span>to show himself, not even the -bridegroom.</p> - -<p class='c018'>The important day arrived. Followed -by her lovely companions, herself the -most lovely, Elizabeth with trembling -steps and a fluttering heart approached -the altar, where Henry of Montfort waited -her arrival. Ida now stepped forward; -she threw back her veil, and prepared to -fasten the wreath of Innocence among the -golden ringlets of her friend: a similar -garland hung on her arm, with which she -was afterwards to present the bridegroom. -Occupied entirely with the task of decorating -Elizabeth, she had not yet cast her -eyes on young Montfort; she had not -observed, that he started on beholding her; -she had not heard the name of “<i>Rosanna</i>,” -which escaped from his trembling lips. She -<span class='pageno' id='Page_414'>414</span>now turned to him for the purpose of offering -him the other wreath; she already -extended her hand; when fixing her eyes -on his countenance, she uttered a cry expressive -at once of the utmost surprise -and terror, attempted but in vain to pronounce -the name of Erwin Melthal, and -would have sank upon the ground, had -not Constantia rushed forward and received -her in her supporting arms.</p> - -<p class='c018'>Constantia still wore the habit of a Nun; -the altar was adorned exactly in the same -manner, and the blazing lamps shed the -same mysterious light along the fretted -roots and gloomy arches, as on that day -when Erwin and Rosanna knelt at the -shrine of St. Engeltruda, poured forth -the most solemn vows of eternal fidelity, -and heard Constantia devote the breaker -<span class='pageno' id='Page_415'>415</span>of those vows to unceasing shame and -sorrow.—Erwin Melthal (or rather Henry -of Montfort, for alas! they formed but -one) had long believed the lovely Sisters -to be no more the inhabitants of earth: -Constantia on the other hand was in the -same error respecting Erwin. The sudden -appearance of one, whom she had long -since numbered with the dead, imprest -upon her countenance something of that -serious, that strangely awful expression, -which struck him so forcibly, when she -united his hand with Rosanna’s in the -Chapel of Engelberg. He recollected her -words—“Should either of you rend -asunder the bonds, with which I now unite -your fates for ever, that instant shall my -form (be I living, or be I dead) stand before -you threatening and awful, to reproach -<span class='pageno' id='Page_416'>416</span>you with your crimes.”—These -recollections, and the unexpected appearance -of the Sisters, at the very -moment when he was on the point of -giving his hand to another, made him -consider the whole scene as a supernatural -vision! He believed, that the forms -which stood before him, were creatures -of another world; his brain was unable to -support the shock; the surrounding objects -floated before his eyes, his senses -forsook him, and he sank without animation -at the feet of his astonished bride.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c006'> - <div>END OF THE THIRD VOLUME.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c013'> - <div><span class='small'>PRINTED BY D. N. SHURY, BERWICK-STREET, SOHO.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c006' /> -</div> -<p class='c018'> </p> -<div class='tnbox'> - - <ul class='ul_1 c006'> - <li>Transcriber’s Notes: - <ul class='ul_2'> - <li>Errata listed in volume IV have been applied to this volume. - </li> - <li>Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - </li> - <li>Typographical errors were silently corrected. - </li> - <li>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant - form was found in this book. - </li> - </ul> - </li> - </ul> - -</div> -<p class='c018'> </p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FEUDAL TYRANTS, VOLUME 3 (OF 4) ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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