Helen flew to meet him, and eagerly enquired, where was his daughter? His answer was a short and cold narrative of the dreadful transaction, which had just taken place, and the consequence was, that overpowered with horror Helen fell senseless at the monster’s feet. When she recovered, her first words were to ask, where he had placed Emmeline, (for she doubted not, that previous to firing the Convent he had provided for his daughter’s safety,) and unfortunately her question was so worded, that it betrayed her more intimate knowledge of the business, than was by any means suspected by Donat. This discovery converted his unfeeling coldness into a degree of fury, that nearly approached delirium. He seized her roughly by the arm, and demanded, in a voice of thunder, how she came to be so well acquainted with his affairs? The unfortunate knew no other way of extricating herself from this dilemma, than repeating what she had heard mentioned by one of her attendants respecting Wolfenrad’s letter, which (she confest) had so strongly excited her anxiety about Emmeline, that she had not scrupled to piece the fragments again together. The storm of rage was now diverted from Helen to the woman, who had given her mistress this intelligence, and who had it in her power to disclose much more important secrets, if she had thought proper. Incensed at Count Donat’s ill-treatment of her, for which she considered herself as indebted to Helen, Jutta resolved to disclose in her turn all that she thought most likely to injure her mistress. Accordingly she began an accusation, which among a thousand falsehoods contained some truths, calculated to make Helen shudder as she listened to them. The Countess (Jutta said) had some time before received a packet from an unknown messenger, who afterwards quitted the Castle with all speed, and whose arrival she ordered to be concealed from her husband. She had also received several letters from the hands of the dying Bertha; after reading which she had been frequently seen loitering about the door of that chamber, which (on account of the strange noises frequently heard within) was supposed to be haunted. Nay, on the night before last she had actually tried to force back the locks, but had been scared away, by hearing Jutta’s rosary fall on the ground, while she was watching her Lady’s proceedings concealed behind St. Martin’s statue. She had afterwards seen through the key-hole the Countess busily employed in writing, and during the confusion which followed Count Donat’s arrival, had found means to get the letters into her possession; which to confirm her story Jutta was now ready to lay before him.