Edith, Countess of Mayenfield, was compelled to fly from her castle, by her bitter enemy the ambitious Abbot of St. Gall: she was a widow, and there were suspicions (and those no slight ones) that she was indebted for the removal of her husband to a present of wine from the cellar of this dignified prelate. Willingly would he have also sacrificed the unprotected lady, who was the more dangerous obstacle to the enjoyment of his hopes, inasmuch as she was daily expected to produce a child, which (if a son) would be entitled to the whole possessions of his deceased father. Edith therefore was compelled to seek safety in flight; the time of her delivery was near; she was beset with enemies on all sides; nor could she doubt what would be the fate of herself and her offspring, should he fall into the Abbot’s hands. In this dreadful situation she summoned up all her courage, and under the protecting mantle of the night employed the only means of saving herself from destruction, which the severity of her fate had now left her. Her wearied horses refused to bear her further, and she was still far distant from the place, in which she hoped to find shelter and assistance. She doubted not, that the Abbot would pursue her; not a moment was to be lost; she quitted her litter, and resolved to prosecute her painful way on foot, unaccompanied except by her orphan daughter, the young and lovely Minna. She ordered her attendants to pursue their journey with as much diligence as possible, hoping by this artifice to lead her pursuers astray. As for herself, she determined to conceal herself in the depth of the forest, thinking she should find there some retired cottage, in which she might recover herself from anxiety and fatigue, and give birth in tranquil security to her unfortunate fatherless infant. As to being betrayed to her tyrant, she was too well acquainted with the honest and benevolent temper of the inhabitants of these mountains to harbour any apprehensions on that head. The paths through which she wandered were solitary. At length the trampling of a steed was heard; and soon after a knight, unaccompanied, presented himself before the unfortunate lady, who, supported by the powerless hand of the youthful Minna, was scarcely able to prevent herself from sinking on the ground: this solitary knight was Count Ethelbert; he was returning from the chace, and had sent his attendants forward.