—“I trust,” continued the old man, “that I have not abused the confidence with which your noble mother honoured me. Anxiety to leave no part of her commands unexecuted made me lose no time in hastening to the Bishop of Coira and the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald, and requesting their advice respecting your future education. I found them already fully acquainted with the intentions of the deceased Countess; I also gathered from some words which escaped them, that all the singular injunctions of that lady’s will related to an old prophecy, by which the daughters of Werdenberg were threatened with the most severe mortifications and persecutions through the means of the family of Torrenburg. For my own part, I cannot say, that I lay any great stress upon these old traditions, and even look upon belief in them as little better than rank superstition: nay, I am almost persuaded, that the very means taken to avoid the dangers with which such prophecies menace us, frequently produce their accomplishment, of which (unless I am much deceived) your own history will furnish an additional proof. The two reverend gentlemen, however, were quite of a different opinion from me on this point; in truth, they received so ill a hint of this nature which escaped me, that if I had not held my tongue in good time, I verily believe, they would have excommunicated me as an arch-heretic. Luckily, the business was not to decide, whether your mother’s opinions were right, but whether her will should be obeyed; and on this head all three were of the same way of thinking. “Annually I made them a visit to lay before them my proceedings, and receive instructions respecting your future conduct. At length they died, both nearly at the same time, and were succeeded by Bishop Sigisbert, and Abbot Conrad the Fourth, who also succeeded to the knowledge of your secret. The latter of those prelates (as you probably remember) once visited our cottage, as it seemed, by accident. He saw you, and felt himself greatly interested in your welfare. I have informed him of my illness, and also of the melancholy occurrences which have lately taken place, and which render these vallies no longer a safe retreat. In his answer, the good Abbot promises you his protection, proposes to remove you to those scenes where your noble ancestors once ruled, and engages (when the proper time shall be arrived) to support your claims to the utmost of his power.