“Hastily, and without thought, I took up, in my terror, the Runic enchanting-rod, and threw it into the fire; whereupon such a terrific blaze arose, that the very walls of the chimney were rent asunder, and the fire spread so rapidly, that Hugur had scarcely time to snatch me, fainting with affright, in his arms, and bear me from the room. Would to Heaven that all my implements of enchantment had at the time been destroyed; and, above all, the fatal mirror which is now placed in the adjoining room, and which I was wont to carry with me, carefully packed, wherever I came! But the mystic spells that ruled therein made it impossible for the fire to injure the mirror, and much as I was afraid of Sir Hugur’s anger, I yet had not resolution to renounce all the secrets that I had learned during my abode in the distant snow-covered Iceland. Alas! my son, where an impulse and longing like that which I had felt towards these dark sciences are born with us, too often are we carried onward, notwithstanding all our struggles, even though we know well that it is to our own destruction. Yet I determined that the mirror, though it remained in my possession, should never be looked at or unveiled; for I could not but expect that Hugur, always incensed by the sight of such objects, would be more than ever enraged, if by any means he were reminded of what had happened with the Runic divining-rod. He paid a large sum of money to the proprietor of the house, according to his usual princely generosity, and thereafter we removed to the pleasant town of Coblentz, where the Mosel flows into the Rhine,--where the blooming fields and vine-covered mountains may vie in beauty with any which this world affords, those even of Asia not excepted. “There, in a baronial fortress, not far from the town, which mansion was situated on a hill covered with fruit-trees, and commanding the loveliest prospects along both rivers, wert thou, my beloved son, brought into the world. In the sweet unconsciousness of infancy, thou wert wont to smile in thy cradle, from the high balcony of the castle, on the beautiful world full of light, blossoms and fragrance which then lay around thee; but young, and seemingly unconscious as thou wert, I doubt not that sweet influences, derived from these early dreams, yet steal upon the both in thine hours of waking and of sleep.” “Truly, dearest mother,” replied Sir Otto, “thy words have recalled to me forms and feelings that lay deep--deeply implanted, though but dimly understood, within my heart. But after I had learned better to perceive what passed around me, did we not travel farther?--Did not our way lead over lofty cliffs covered with vines, full of rich clusters?--and did we not once stand looking down fearfully at a great foaming cataract?--Methinks I yet hear its mighty voice!--or was this, perchance, a thunder-storm among the mountains, with its blue and white clouds, which my wild fantasy had confused with the notion of falling water?”