The report soon circulated through the country, that the lost daughter of Count Donat was still in existence. The sisters shared the inheritance amicably, like two lovers dividing some scarce and delicious fruit, each anxious that the other should receive a full proportion. From every quarter of the free and happy Helvetia thronged the ancient friends of the family of Sargans to congratulate the co-heiresses. At length came also Herman of Werdenberg in quest of his unknown mistress, whom he understood to be resident at Sargans; he returned from his expedition, crowned with glory, and rewarded by the Pope with absolution from his sins; a favour, of which the pious warrior stood but little in need. Count Torrenburg proffered him the hand of his sister, of the rich heiress of Sargans, of her whose beauty had formerly fascinated his eyes; but his heart was now possest by the poor and friendless stranger, and the hand of the rich heiress was respectfully declined. Indignation at this refusal was the reason assigned by Amalberga for the non-appearance of her sister; the stranger however was not equally invisible, though her veil was not yet laid aside; and her consent to become his bride soon repaid him for his constancy. It was not till the espousals had taken place, that she revealed to him her real name, which Herman now grown wiser heard without repugnance; for his early prejudices had at length lost their influence in his bosom, and Emmeline’s past sufferings left him no doubt respecting the purity of her future conduct. He believed, that he had plighted his faith to a needy friendless orphan; and the orphan in giving him her hand made him the powerful Lord of Upper-Carlsheim, of Ortenstein, and of many other fruitful territories. Happy were their days; happy was she through him, and he through her! He had found once more the long-lost jewel, of whose value he was so long unconscious; he had found the attachments of his early youth and of his maturer manhood, the choice both of his heart and of his head, and had found them all united in the person of his adored Emmeline! And Helen was the spectatress of their felicity, nay is so still at the moment that I trace these lines! Dear as they were to her, so dear to her are still the sisters and their worthy husbands!—Lo! how in this world every thing passes away; God be thanked for it, even our passions pass away, as well as the rest. Tranquil age succeeds the impetuosity and hurry of youth; the summer, whose every day was disturbed by tempests, is replaced by the mild and mellow autumn.—Much as it had suffered, bitter as had been its disappointments, cruel as had been its sacrifices, even the heart of Helen at length was at rest.