Report was loud in praise of this generous act of the saint-like Johanna, who thus offered an honourable grave to the wife of her father’s murderer. As it appeared to me in a light by no means so amiable, I scrupled not to give the Queen’s request a positive refusal. My sister’s bones repose in the vaults beneath our convent-chapel; the marble which covers them bears no inscription except the name of her who is buried there, a name which will be sacred to the latest posterity, as an example of undeserved affliction and of love and truth unequalled. Come to this place of sorrow, dearest Urania; come, and bathe that hallowed stone with your tears, on which my own still fall in my most serious hours. At present suffer me to rest from the painful task of describing scenes, the slightest recollection of which is almost sufficient to break my heart in pieces. God grant that ere long it may break for ever! Adelaide’s smiling form seems to beckon me away to the regions of light.—Rodolpho’s shade I strive in vain to discern; it appears not!—oh! thou my brother! my dear seduced unhappy brother! may the Divine Providence grant me not to close my eyes, till my unceasing fervent prayers shall have obtained the absolution of thy sins, and have gained thy admission into the dwellings of the blessed! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ _PART THE FOURTH._ ═══════════════ _Count Donat’s Daughters._ _Emmeline of Sargans to Amabel Melthal._ Perhaps, dear Amabel, you had good reasons for quitting the Castle of Sargans, though filial respect forbids my examining what those reasons were; but have not I reasons equally good for lamenting your departure? oh! never more term me your mistress; that name is painful to my heart and injurious to our friendship. You know well, that I never treated you as really filling that station, to which you were destined, when in the days of our childhood my father first brought you with him to Sargans. You were not my attendant; you were my companion, were my sister! away with the jargon of illustrious ancestry and of humble birth; such distinctions disgrace the lips of Helvetia’s daughters; and in truth, dear Amabel, when all is justly weighed, she who is the daughter of Henric Melthal, the relation of Walter Forest and the pupil of Gertrude Bernsdorf, has far greater cause to be proud of her origin, than one who is the offspring of Donat and Mellusina, and who must blush to name as her grandfather Ethelbert of Carlsheim, the unfortunate and the guilty.