We, poor anxious females, trembled in our solitary Castle, while we listened to this account of the proceedings of one, whose very name made us already look upon him as our enemy. Yet I could by no means understand, how he should be the son of Ethelbert, never having heard, that my husband had been married, till I gave him my hand, nor that he had any natural children, whose existence (I had no cause to flatter myself) he would have concealed out of respect for me!—Edith sighed, when I stated to her my reasons for disbelieving, that Ethelbert had a son; and my uncle, who just at that moment happened to return from one of his daily skirmishes with his enemy, explained to me the cause of her sighing. —“Alas, my child,” said he, “it is not without reason, that you look with terror on this newly-arrived Count of Carlsheim. It is but too probable, that he is Ethelbert’s son, and is come to strengthen his father’s party. Before your union with him a report had reached me, that Count Ethelbert was already the husband of another, though his passion for you induced him to conceal his marriage. This story, making me look upon him as a seducer, was the motive of my unexplained antipathy towards him, and of the displeasure with which I observed your growing attachment. I therefore took an opportunity of questioning him seriously respecting the report; but no sooner had the first hint escaped my lips, than his pride took the alarm. —“To justify myself from such an accusation,” said he haughtily, “is beneath me; thus much I will answer, and no more. Yes; some years ago I married a noble Italian lady (alas! now she will never claim her rights!) rich and beautiful. Before I was deprived of her, she bore to me a son, whom I left to the guardianship of his mother’s relations; they were anxious to retain him with them, as being all that remained of a person so justly dear to them. The partiality of his mother has made this boy already master of very large possessions; nor would his birth at all interfere with the rights of any future children, should ever a second wife.... But why do I thus condescend to explain the circumstances of my private life to one, who looks on me as a seducer?—You have suspected me of artfully endeavouring to ensnare your niece’s affections for the basest purposes; here then I solemnly swear in the face of Heaven that nothing shall ever tempt me to offer her my hand, or condescend to seek a connexion with a man, who has exprest an opinion of me so degrading! I love Urania, love her passionately; but never will I become her husband, unless you solicit me with your own lips to accept her hand, and thus wipe off the injurious aspersion, which you have cast upon the character of one, whose sentiments are as elevated, and whose honour is as strict as your own.”—