Such was the discourse of my old attendant, which in truth was not calculated to abate the awful impression made on me by this mysterious visit! however, whether her explanation was right or false, it is certain, that the advice contained in the conclusion of her speech was the best that could be given. I have just received an order from my father to hasten my departure, since in a few days he means to bring home his young bride, and will be displeased to find me still at Sargans. _In Continuation._ Then my father has renounced me, and for ever! renounced me for Helen’s sake, and as they tell me, at Helen’s persuasion! oh! how much must she be changed, if she knows and countenances the severity, with which I am treated. Then farewell my paternal mansion, and welcome, ye holy walls! yet why should I grieve to go? what do I lose in the one? what have I to fear in the other? And yet methinks, I do not feel quite satisfied in seeking the Convent of St. Roswitha. Oh! if it were but possible to escape to Zurich, where Urania.... But alas! this is impracticable. A strong guard is appointed to conduct me, not whither I wish to go, but whither my father chuses me to be carried. Farewell, ye gloomy walls, which have witnessed so many of my tears! farewell too, thou my good kind-hearted Bertha! would I had known sooner, that among the Castle’s inhabitants there existed one such honest creature, whose simple counsels would have frequently stood me in much stead, and whose maternal sympathy would have cheered many a heavy, heavy hour! The moment for my departure is come; every thing is prepared. The insolent domestics of the Count of Carlsheim, and his still more insolent paramours (_they_ are not banished for Helen’s sake!) laughed even now, when they saw me weep, while I embraced poor Bertha. From my window I see the litter ready, and near it stands Abbot Luprian with that inexplicable look, which he always wears, when there is mischief in the wind. I will not honour him even with a single word! oh! were I but safe within the holy walls of St. Roswitha! were I but sure, that on the road no artifice will be employed to betray me into the power of this Miscreant! Bertha’s account both of him and his predecessor Guiderius have taught me thoroughly, how much is to be apprehended from men of his character. Farewell, farewell, my Amabel! Bertha has undertaken to convey this letter to you: write a few lines to inform my adopted mother, whither I am gone. I have not yet answered your last letter; it was too gay, and too unimportant to require an immediate reply. In the Convent I shall have leisure enough to discuss it fully.—Again farewell. _Amabel to Emmeline._