The history of my nocturnal journey (many gave it the name of an elopement,) had not been kept a secret; the situation of the Countess’s affairs made it necessary for her to receive several strangers; they always found me at her side, saw that I acted as the mistress of Count Ethelbert’s house, and the remarks to which all this gave occasion were frequently by no means to my credit. Some asserted, that I was already betrothed to the Lord of Carlsheim; others fabricated out of facts and guesses such a story, as offended my feelings too severely to admit of my repeating it here, and which no sooner came to my uncle’s knowledge, than he resolved at all events to remove me from so unusual a situation. The invalid was now sufficiently recovered to bear the fatigue of a journey; and an abode in the house of the potent Count Venosta was likely to furnish her both with more consequence and security, than she could expect to find at the Castle of Carlsheim. My uncle and Ethelbert looked gloomily; my heart was heavy and sad: the fair Edith of Mayenfield alone exprest in words, what no one else was willing to declare to the other. —“Oh! Heaven,” she cried at taking leave of him, who had till then been her protector, while she prest mine and Ethelbert’s hands fast together, between her own “unite these two noblest souls, with which you ever blest humanity: this is the best recompense for such generosity and such disinterested friendship, as I have experienced from them both!”— Edith’s expressive eyes were directed towards heaven; Ethelbert and myself blushed as we gazed on each other, without being able to pronounce a syllable. Methought, Ethelbert _should_ have spoken on this occasion;—but he was silent. The Countess was long our guest. Open feud was declared between her defenders and the obstinate Abbot of St. Gall, who was worsted in every skirmish without ever being entirely subdued. The contest was carried on for a considerable time: in the mean while my uncle (to whom age advanced with steps so lingering, that no one could easily have guest his years) discovered, that the charms of the fair widow were still of great power: yet perhaps it was I, to whom the idea first suggested itself, that an union between them would be productive of happiness on both sides. I soon observed, that my hints were far from disagreeable to either party; and I exulted in the hope of soon beholding my friend and my benefactor united in a new course of domestic happiness. When I imparted my designs to Count Ethelbert, (who was now a frequent visitor at our castle) he listened to me with the greatest astonishment. His countenance at this moment assumed an expression, which I had never seen it wear before. —“Lady!” said he, “am I awake, or dreaming?—An union, which must deprive you of your fairest expectations, and will put a stranger in possession of all those rights which ought to be your own, is such an union contrived by yourself?”—