At my request the Abbess pointed out to me Helen’s picture; and such was my enthusiastic partiality, that I was weak enough to fancy a striking likeness between her features, and those which my mirror shows me. I made the observation to my venerable friend; she assented to it with a smile, and added, “that it was not in person alone, that I resembled Helen of Homburg.”—I started, and requested an explanation as to the parts of Helen’s history, which were so like my own. Again the idea of an imposition flitted across my mind; I believed, what had passed between myself and Ida to be a total secret in the Convent; and if the Abbess was acquainted with my story, it was still possible, that all which I had heard from her had been dictated by Abbot Conrad. Her answer, however, soon removed this suspicion. —“Helen,” said she, “was not only fair, illustrious, benevolent, and pious, like Elizabeth, but she was also learned like Her. I understand, that the exercise of your pen is your favourite amusement; and there still exist writings of Helen, which are well-deserving your attention, and which I would willingly communicate to you, my dear Lady, had I not been positively enjoined to the contrary by superior orders.”— The recollection of my treachery forced the colour into my cheeks. To prevent my confusion being remarked, I hastened to enquire—“why I was prohibited this pleasure, and who was my secret enemy?”—The Abbess shook her head, and confest, that the writings of ecclesiastical persons frequently contained circumstances improper to be made known to the laity, for fear of giving a shock to their orthodox opinions. —“But only resolve,” she added smiling, “to become one of our Sisterhood, and when I die, I will bequeath you my station, and full permission to peruse all the manuscripts deposited in the spacious archives of this Convent.”— Ah! my dear brother, were Montfort a Torrenburg and Ida an Amalberga, how easy would it be for me to take such a step! But the ill opinion which I entertain both of Henry and his mistress, and my still lively sense of the perfidy and injustice with which they repaid my affection, will perhaps make me yet longer hesitate to act, as would best become me, and to follow the glorious example of self-denial, set forth in Helen’s conduct.—Farewell, dear Oswald; my heart is sad, but loves you tenderly. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ _Elizabeth of Torrenburg to Count Oswald._ I have confided my secret history to the Abbess. In whom can I more properly confide, than in her who will soon stand before the Almighty’s throne, and before whose eyes all concealed things will soon be made manifest? To whom can I better apply for advice, than to a soul so near the boundaries of earthly being, that a ray of celestial light already illumines it, and enables her mental vision to see the things of this world in their proper likeness?