PART II.

Since Amabel Bloomberg traced the letters which will be found with this, how many years have elapsed! how many changes have taken place! How 2many persons are now insensible dust, who are described as agitated with such anxious fears and ardent hopes, by the pens of Amabel and the Damsels of Sargans! Accident has also made me mistress of the letters of those unfortunate sisters. Accident, did I say? Surely, it was something more than mere chance, which brought them into the hands of her, who is most able to supply that chasm, which otherwise would have been left in these adventures.

To undertake this task I have both leisure and information sufficient. My fate was too closely united with that of the sisters, to permit the slightest particular concerning them to be concealed from me; and jointly with theirs will 3my name be handed down to posterity.

Yet is it not an idle vanity, a love of worldly fame, which makes me desire this species of immortality?—Well then, I will repress the wish. Long practised in self-denial, I will make even this last sacrifice to my celestial spouse, and will write, as if I treated of strangers and of interests quite foreign to myself. No one shall know my name except Heaven, to whom alone is thoroughly known, how much I have suffered!

When I entered the world, the course of innocence and beauty lay among a thousand snares and pit-falls, which were the more dangerous from being most artfully concealed. This is a truth 4which I learnt to my cost, before I sought, and found, tranquillity in a convent.

Amabel was blind to those snares; though they were spread carelessly enough for her to have seen them, had not her own guileless nature thrown a veil over her eyes, and had not female obstinacy made her reject the prudent warnings of her best friends.

The visit to Engelberg, which she had agreed upon in concert with her brother’s wife, was made the next day; and the latter, as young, imprudent, and unsuspicious as Amabel, undertook to excuse her sister-in-law’s absence to the jealous Arnold, and the sick old man, who suffered no quarter of an 5hour to pass without enquiring for his daughter. However, Juttila engaged to invent some means for satisfying him till Amabel’s return, which was delayed much longer than either of them intended.

How indeed could she return so speedily, since adventures encountered her on the road, on which she little reckoned, and whose nature was of sufficient consequence to have a fearful influence over herself, and over all those who were most dear to her? Alas! the cottage which she left with such a thoughtless heart, she was destined to revisit no more with such content: the fate of the two sisters, which she was so eager to learn, was now enveloped by such 6impenetrable darkness, that she in vain.... But I am running away from the proper order of events, which in truth it is natural for one of my profession and time of life to do. Be it known to you, my youthful readers that it is not easy for an old doating Nun to transcribe even a verse out of her Psalter, without tacking to it at least a dozen of her own childish observations.

At Engelberg Amabel found the Nun to whom Wolfenrad had directed her to apply, and who was his confidante and the secret instrument for effecting the carrying away of Amalberga. She assured Amabel, that her friend had by no means been forced away; but that on account of the assiduities of the 7Lord of Landenberg, and the popular disturbances which increased with every day, Amalberga had voluntarily chosen to withdraw herself from Engelberg.

—“Your partiality for the governor,” said the artful hypocrite, “and your incessant pleading in behalf of a man whom she could not love, made the Lady unwilling to let you know her design. I was her sole confidante on this occasion, and I think I have done well in enabling the dear soul to escape from the temptations of the wicked world! She has taken refuge in the Convent of Zurich, under the protection of an old Lady called Urania, who is either her friend or some near relation, for I understand, never was there joy 8known equal to that of their meeting.”—

In this account Amabel could not discover the least vestige of deception or improbability: still she blamed the Nun greatly for concealing the real cause of Amalberga’s disappearance, by which means the spirit of discontent was encouraged among the people against Landenberg, who bore the odium of having violated the sanctuary, and forcibly carried away an inmate of those holy walls.

The Nun made but an indifferent defence against this charge, and Amabel left her by no means satisfied with her conduct. However, she soon forgot what little had displeased her in the 9Nun’s conversation, and gave herself up entirely to the joy of being assured, that one of her friends at least was safe in the arms of friendship and of maternal love.

—“Oh! that I could but have the same assurance respecting my beloved Emmeline!” thus said Amabel to herself, as she hastened back to her brother’s cottage; “Oh! that as I pass homewards, chance would but throw Wolfenrad in my way, that I might learn from him what he knows about the dear-one! He might just tell me in half a dozen words, and then hurry away, in order that I might not blush too deep a crimson, when the severe Censurer of my actions looks me in the 10face, and says with his magisterial air,—‘Now, Amabel! whence do you come, and with whom have you spoken?’—How ridiculous, that Arnold should take it into his head, that an old man like Wolfenrad has designs upon a young creature like me, not yet twenty! Yet ridiculous as it is, his anxiety proceeds from the warmth of his affection for me, and I ought to forgive my good Arnold for the faults of his head, when I recollect the kindness of his heart.”—

Such were the thoughts which occupied Amabel, as she hastily retraced the long way between her home and the Convent; and as she past along, she threw many an anxious look on every 11side in hopes of seeing the man, who alone could confirm to her the fortunate escape of her friend. Wolfenrad had frequently business that carried him to Engelberg, and it was by no means improbable, that she should encounter him on her way.

In fact, the tempter had long been at no great distance from the fair pilgrim, though without her seeing him; since he stole along concealed by a thick hawthorn plantation, which bordered more than half the road between the village and the Convent of Engelberg.

It is easy for the wicked to guess what steps will be taken by unsuspecting innocence, whose proceedings are the natural result of existing circumstances 12and feelings. Wolfenrad knew how warmly Amabel’s heart was interested about her friends; he had given her hopes of obtaining intelligence respecting them; he had pointed out the place, where a part of those hopes might be realized; and he was therefore certain of finding her on the road to that place, before many days were elapsed. He had accidentally missed seeing her on her way to Engelberg; but when on her return she was descending the Convent-hill, he espied her from behind the watch-tower which stands at the farthest extremity of the mount, and then hastened to shelter himself behind the hawthorn hedge, in order that he might unseen watch her motions, and 13discover what temper she was in, before he accosted her.

And thus did he for some time steal along, examining every change of her expressive countenance, and drawing but too just conclusions of the subject, which employed her thoughts. Her look, now gay, now sorrowful, and the impatient glances which she frequently threw around her, would have been sufficient to betray her, even though a few broken sentences, which escaped from her in the anxiety of her mind, had not left him without a doubt of his presence being perfectly welcome.

Wolfenrad’s plans for the innocent girl’s ruin had been so long arranged, that they were ready to be carried into 14effect at a moment’s warning; nor could he have wished for a more favourable opportunity than the present. The fiercest passion for Amabel reigned in his bosom, and deceived him who was so well skilled in deceiving others. He fancied, that in her impatient looks, in the tone which she used in pronouncing his name occasionally, there was something more than mere friendship for Emmeline, and that love was the motive that made her so anxious to meet him! Immortal powers! Love! love from a girl, pure as innocence itself, for such an earthly dæmon, a dæmon both in person and in mind!

—“Yet however she may be disposed,” ’twas thus he argued with himself, 15 “too abrupt an appearance, too hasty a discovery of my views, might do me a prejudice, and put her too much upon her guard. When her impatience is worked up to the highest pitch, I shall be the more secure of her.”—

And therefore he still remained invisible, and hastened onwards, keeping still a little way before her; so that when the fair pilgrim reached the end of the plantation, and emerged into the open plain, she descried him crossing the path at some distance, as if totally unaware of her approach.

Amabel gave a cry of joy, called him by his name, and flew to join him.

—“Is it you, my fair dame?” answered Wolfenrad. “What would you 16with me?”—and he stopped, as waiting for her to come up to him.

—“Oh! tell me! tell me! give me some tidings of the damsel of Sargans!”—

—“You have been to Engelberg, and surely must have heard more there, than I am able to tell you.”—

“Oh! no, no, no! Emmeline! speak of Emmeline!”—

—“Why, the Lady Emmeline.... Concealment being absolutely necessary.... But we are close to your jealous brother’s house, and he may take offence at our conference—Farewell! I must find an opportunity of communicating what I know unobserved, when I return from Uri.”—

17“From Uri? Heavens! and when do you go thither, and how long shall you remain away?”—

—“I set out to-morrow; as to my stay, I fear the disturbances there will make my return very distant.”—

Amabel’s impatience to know something decisive respecting her friend now grew beyond all bounds. She entreated him at least to put it out of doubt that Emmeline had been saved from the flames, and hesitated not to follow him into a bye-path, which conducted to the Castle. As they passed along, the deceiver began a long and wonderful narrative of Emmeline’s adventures, which occupied his auditor’s whole attention; but as it contained not one syllable of truth, it 18would be superfluous to relate it here.

—“But one question more!” said Amabel at length, and stopped. “See! night is approaching; we are already at the foot of the Castle-hill, and I have still a weary way to traverse, ere I can regain my brother’s cottage, where, I fear, I must be already missed. You assure me that Emmeline is safe, and is concealed in the neighbourhood: Oh! tell me then where she is concealed, for my bosom pants to embrace her!”—

—“That were easily done. You see the Castle is close at hand: thither have I brought her, and I mean to convey her with me to Uri to-morrow, since the disturbances which prevail in 19these parts render them an unsafe abode.”—

—“To Uri? To-morrow? Cruel, cruel Wolfenrad! Would you then have removed her, without suffering me to see her for one moment?”—

—“How could I have contrived an interview without betraying the secret? Had not accident thrown you in my way, I should not have had an opportunity of even telling you, that she is in your neighbourhood. However, as soon as she was out of the reach of discovery, you would have received a letter explaining every thing. I left her occupied in writing it, and when finished it was to be delivered to your husband’s care, who is now with her at the 20Castle, and who has been the chief means of bringing her hither in safety.”—

—“What say you? My husband? Is Edmund then with Emmeline? Oh! lead me to him, dear Wolfenrad, I must accompany you to the Castle; permit me to pass this last evening with the dear lady; or at least suffer me to embrace her once more, and assure her of my unchanged affection, and then my husband can conduct me back to my brother.”—

Wolfenrad heard this proposal with a malicious smile, and answered that for his part he had no objection; but he suggested his fears, lest her taking such a step should displease the suspicious 21Arnold, who surpassed her husband in jealousy a thousand fold.

—“Oh! heed not that!” exclaimed Amabel; “while I am with you, I can set all suspicions at defiance!”—

She said this thoughtlessly, for she alluded to his age and ugliness. The miscreant however interpreted it to his own taste, and saw in it the confirmation of his insolent hopes. He was on the point of rewarding the avowal by a tender pressure of her hand, which perhaps might have opened her eyes, ere it was too late: but she prevented him by making a thousand fond enquiries respecting her beloved Edmund, which put him again upon his guard, and which were not ended till they arrived 22at the Castle. The gates were closed: Wolfenrad sounded his horn; the draw-bridge descended. He entered the Castle; Amabel followed him, and the moment that she had passed the threshold, heard with terror the noise of a port-cullis falling behind her.

How strange is it, that we should frequently remain thoroughly blind till we reach a certain point, and then be rouzed at once from our delusions by some unimportant circumstance! Amabel has frequently told me since, that the sound of that port-cullis (though nothing unusual in the Castle) gave her the first indistinct idea of her imprudence and the danger of her situation.

Her voice faltered, as she pronounced 23the names of Edmund and Emmeline, while she hastily withdrew her hand, which Wolfenrad had now seized with an air of impetuous passion. She looked him anxiously in the face, and her eyes read with horror in his an expression, which explained to her the whole fearful secret.

Yet she was still unwilling to believe that man so great a villain, whom she had long believed so much her friend. It was not till she was convinced, that neither Edmund nor Emmeline were in the Castle; that she found herself totally alone with the wretch, whom she had despised as being too insignificant to be dangerous; and that an old woman, whom (in order to calm the first 24violence of her feelings) he had produced to her as his wife, was nothing more than a domestic; it was not till then, that she saw the whole business clearly, and the sight was one of such danger, that perhaps had she been a woman of a common mind, it would have thrown her into such a state of bodily insensibility, or of mental dejection, as might effectually have prevented all endeavours to effect an escape. But Amabel was a daughter of Helvetia! that is, she was a woman, whose powers both of body and mind existed in their fullest vigour; neither the first was weakened by luxurious indulgence, nor the second liable to be subdued by imaginary terrors. In spite 25of all that credulity and imprudence

which had betrayed her into her present danger, her imagination was still both clear and acute enough to suggest a means for effecting her rescue, or at least for gaining time.

She appeared reserved and shy, and sat down in silence to the voluptuous entertainment, which was now served up by Wolfenrad’s confidante; the only person, whom he suffered to penetrate into that part of the Castle. Yet did Amabel contrive to give her silence the appearance of being preserved much against her will; she refused not at Wolfenrad’s request to lay aside the large hat, which overshadowed her face, and which (as he complained) concealed 26from him numberless beauties; nor did she draw away very hastily or with a look of extreme displeasure her soft white hand, when he prest it passionately between his own.

—“May I flatter myself,” said the deceived deceiver, “that Amabel does not absolutely hate me?”—

—“My religion forbids my hating any one.”—

—“And you are not very much offended at my having employed a little artifice to procure myself the happiness of this evening?”—

“—Artifice?—Nay; the effect of accident, and ... and, I am afraid, my own inclination was so much on your side, that....”—

27—“My charming Amabel! then I may hope, that Wolfenrad is not entirely indifferent to you!”—

—“Indifferent? Oh! that you are not indeed!—And as to hoping ... why, nobody can prevent your doing that, you know.”—

And with this kind of doubtful and flattering discourse did she long entertain the betrayer, and forgot not to fill the silver bowls from time to time; though the effects of his frequent draughts prevented him from observing, that while she poured wine into his goblet, nothing but water entered into her own.

At the expence of a few disgusting kisses, which were forced from her occasionally, 28she at length had the pleasure to see Wolfenrad fall senseless from his chair. It was midnight; the old woman had long since betaken herself to rest, and Amabel found herself at liberty to wander through the vacant chambers in search of some means of escape.

Alas! the locks and bars were immoveable, and no keys were to be found.—She at length discovered an unfastened door opening into a balcony; it overhung the middle court; the height was fearful; yet would she have gladly ran the hazard of springing below, if she had not dreaded the meeting there with a greater danger, than that from which she was flying. The 29Castle-Garrison occupied this quarter. She heard from above the conversation, which passed between the sentinels; and its nature was such as to leave her no hope of finding from them protection or even pity. It also informed her, that Wolfenrad’s bounty, and his winking at their committing the most heinous offences, had united them too closely to his interests, to admit even a chance of their acting in opposition to his will.

She wept in agony! She wrung her hands! At length despair took possession of her whole soul. She eyed for a while the torch, which flamed in her hand, and in a moment of desperate resolution she determined to set the Castle on fire; in hopes of either being able to 30effect her escape during the conflagration, or at least of saving herself by death from existing for one instant with dishonour.

Thus resolved, she was on the point of quitting the balcony when a well-known name struck her ear. She stopt, and listened. Two sentinels stood beneath the balcony, and she heard one tell the other, that it would be necessary to wake Wolfenrad; for that he (the sentinel) was just returned from the outer wall, and had seen a company of soldiers crossing over the plain; that he had hailed one of them, and found them to be part of those who had accompanied Bloomberg to Sargans, and that their leader with the rest of his troops would follow them before mid-day.

31—“Bloomberg their leader?” said his companion. “And since when has the gentle peace-loving Bloomberg turned soldier, and what has Wolfenrad to fear from a fellow, who but yesterday followed the plough?”—

“Faith,” rejoined the first, “this is a time, when every countryman exchanges his sickle and ploughshare for a sword and spear; and I know enough of Edmund Bloomberg to be convinced, that the carrying off his pretty wife will make him rage like a mad bull.”—

—“Carrying off, d’ye call it?” said the other; “I think, she seemed to follow Wolfenrad of her own accord; and if Bloomberg draws his sword upon her account, the more fool Bloomberg!”—