The subject of Urania’s next question regarded the fate of my sister: on this point also I answered her with openness. I did not merely relate those melancholy scenes, which never can be effaced from my memory; I painted them with such warmth and in such lively colours, that the emotion with which my story was heard convinced me, that I had made them present to the eyes of my auditor. Still was she not contented with merely hearing me briefly recite those circumstances, which made her mingle her tears with mine: she has desired me to communicate to her in writing all that has past in the most circumstantial manner; and she flatters me with the hope of her being able to found such conjectures on this narrative, as may be the source to me of much future consolation, and may even be the means of finally re-uniting me to my dear lost sister. Oh! were I but certain, that this would really be the consequence, with what pleasure should I undertake a task, which I shall now enter upon so unwillingly! Amabel, you saw how many tears I shed, when that unexpected and most inexplicable event took place; and you will not wonder, that sitting where I now do, those tears flow with renewed violence. It was in this very chamber, that I saw Amalberga for the last time! what pain did it cost me to tear myself away from her! in what distraction did I fall at the feet of my cruel father, and entreat him no longer to imprison my beloved sister, or at least to make me her companion in captivity! he repulsed me with frowns; and the innocent girl heard Count Donat’s own hand turn the lock of this chamber, in which the next morning she was no longer to be found. My father and myself mutually accused each other of her flight; _his_ accusations were curses, mine were confined to tears: whether both were equally innocent of Amalberga’s disappearing is at least to me still a mystery. And these events, which when even slightly hinted at gave my heart a severe pang, must I compel myself to commit to paper calmly and circumstantially!—yet be it so! the painful task will cost me many tears, but they will not be the first tears, which have streamed within these walls. Urania informs me, that this very chamber was long her own; how severe were her afflictions is already known to you. I now come to the third subject of enquiry, with which (I might almost say) my adopted mother _tortured_ me this morning; and I am scarcely less unwilling to mention it even to you, than I was unable to reply to _her_ with firmness and sincerity. You cannot have forgotten what past at the tournament, at which I saw the Bishop of Coira’s nephew for the first time. Urania seems to be almost as well acquainted as you and myself with all that past on that occasion; and were I not thoroughly convinced of the discretion of my faithful Amabel, I might be tempted to suspect her of having incautiously suffered herself to be seduced into revealing the secrets of her friend.