Rosanna saw so many of the venerable fathers of the Valley sink into the grave, and wept over the tombs of so many of her youthful friends, that she could not but expect the lot soon to fall upon herself and her good old grandfather. The first was as earnestly desired by Her, who languished to embrace her Erwin in the land of shadows, as the latter was looked forward to with terror. She anxiously wished to lengthen the days of one, who was now almost her only friend, and she implored him to retire for a while from a spot become so dangerous. It was not far from Tell’s habitation to the Convent of Engelberg, and there the plague had not as yet commenced its ravages. Mary obtained permission from the Abbess to take possession of an uninhabited monastery, which made part of the domains of Engelberg; and she now hastened like some benevolent Angel to guide her sickening relations to the place of refuge, which she had found for them, and where she proposed to be their nurse herself. As many as were still capable of moving, blest her, and followed her to the Monastery; Rosanna and Tell made part of the melancholy caravan, which Death had taken care to prevent from being numerous. In defiance of the extreme danger, Mary resided with them, and administered to their necessities with her own hands. Her exertions were crowned with their deserved success; she had the happiness of rescuing all her patients from the grave, except the grey-headed Tell. Yet even He did not fall a martyr to the plague; Mary’s unceasing efforts had relieved him from that poisonous enemy; but the weight of near an hundred years prest him down, and forbade his ever rising again from that bed, from whose side, during the time of his most imminent danger, he had vainly entreated Mary and her sister to retire and attend to their own preservation. —“My children,” said he at length, when no doubt remained that the hour of his death was at hand, “I feel, that we must part: and long as my worldly course has lasted, still at its close does nothing press heavy on my heart except the reflection, that I leave your fate and fortunes undecided. Rosanna, have you communicated to your sister those circumstances, which I thought fit to lay before you, in order that you might be convinced, that an union with Erwin Melthal would be ill-sorted and improper in every point of view?”— Rosanna replied in the negative; she had of late found but few opportunities, she said, of seeing her sister; and even when they were together, the Lady Abbess (whose notions of decorum had been greatly shocked at the share, which Mary had taken in the Chapel-scene) had watched them with such vigilance, as effectually prevented any confidential communications. She concluded her apology for having so long neglected to obey his injunctions, by entreating him to suffer Mary to retain the pleasing illusion that she had a right to his affection; an illusion, with which she herself had parted so unwillingly.