—“Your partiality for the governor,” said the artful hypocrite, “and your incessant pleading in behalf of a man whom she could not love, made the Lady unwilling to let you know her design. I was her sole confidante on this occasion, and I think I have done well in enabling the dear soul to escape from the temptations of the wicked world! She has taken refuge in the Convent of Zurich, under the protection of an old Lady called Urania, who is either her friend or some near relation, for I understand, never was there joy known equal to that of their meeting.”— In this account Amabel could not discover the least vestige of deception or improbability: still she blamed the Nun greatly for concealing the real cause of Amalberga’s disappearance, by which means the spirit of discontent was encouraged among the people against Landenberg, who bore the odium of having violated the sanctuary, and forcibly carried away an inmate of those holy walls. The Nun made but an indifferent defence against this charge, and Amabel left her by no means satisfied with her conduct. However, she soon forgot what little had displeased her in the Nun’s conversation, and gave herself up entirely to the joy of being assured, that one of her friends at least was safe in the arms of friendship and of maternal love. —“Oh! that I could but have the same assurance respecting my beloved Emmeline!” thus said Amabel to herself, as she hastened back to her brother’s cottage; “Oh! that as I pass homewards, chance would but throw Wolfenrad in my way, that I might learn from him what he knows about the dear-one! He might just tell me in half a dozen words, and then hurry away, in order that I might not blush too deep a crimson, when the severe Censurer of my actions looks me in the face, and says with his magisterial air,—‘Now, Amabel! whence do you come, and with whom have you spoken?’—How ridiculous, that Arnold should take it into his head, that an old man like Wolfenrad has designs upon a young creature like me, not yet twenty! Yet ridiculous as it is, his anxiety proceeds from the warmth of his affection for me, and I ought to forgive my good Arnold for the faults of his head, when I recollect the kindness of his heart.”— Such were the thoughts which occupied Amabel, as she hastily retraced the long way between her home and the Convent; and as she past along, she threw many an anxious look on every side in hopes of seeing the man, who alone could confirm to her the fortunate escape of her friend. Wolfenrad had frequently business that carried him to Engelberg, and it was by no means improbable, that she should encounter him on her way. In fact, the tempter had long been at no great distance from the fair pilgrim, though without her seeing him; since he stole along concealed by a thick hawthorn plantation, which bordered more than half the road between the village and the Convent of Engelberg.