I had the satisfaction to see my friends justified and reinstated in their dignities, in defiance of their numerous foes; but I had also the mortification to experience some consequences of my well-intended interference, which were by no means agreeable. The first was a very severe remonstrance from Count Venosta respecting the ardour, or the importunity as he termed it, with which I had prest my suit upon Ethelbert.
—“Had Urania been a simple Alpine shepherdess,” said my uncle, “who, concealed, among her native mountains, had never heard of the insolent expectations, which men ground upon the slightest demonstration of female good-will towards them, I might, perhaps, find some excuse for the free tone with which she spoke to a stranger, and the tender expression which she infused into her supplicating looks; but Urania, educated in a Court, should have been more upon her guard. Handsome as are his features, the Count of Carlsheim’s bold and ardent gaze was such as by no means gave me a favourable opinion of his delicacy; and still less was I pleased by the liberty which he took of addressing you in a strain of flattery so undisguised. Hitherto I have been disposed to entertain a favourable opinion of the young man; but I confess, what I have seen of him to-day has shaken my goodwill not a little.”—
I only answered Count Leopold’s warning speech by a respectful silence; and I afterwards reproached myself for the manner in which I had acted, though I was unconscious what I had done, for which I deserved to be reproached. My heart was innocent; my intention was pure; the consequences of the step which I had taken, however, soon convinced me that I had really committed an error.
Ethelbert of Carlsheim, he who, during whole years that my uncle sought to obtain his acquaintance, was never to be found; he, who even now that they were at length known to each other, seemed by no means eager to cultivate a closer intercourse with the family of Venosta, from the time of our first meeting presented himself before me almost every day. If I sought the neighbouring church, it always so happened that he had chosen exactly the same hour for paying his devotions—if I sat in my balcony, he was sure to ride past the Castle—at the rural feasts, for which among our vassals an excuse was never wanting, and from which I dared not absent myself through fear of mortifying the good people, Ethelbert’s hand was always offered to conduct me to the dance. At length it so chanced, that I was under the necessity of confessing that it was to him, that I owed the preservation of my life. One evening as I was proceeding towards the Castle in the twilight, a procession of villagers, returning from a wedding, happened to cross my path, accompanied by a variety of instruments which produced the most noisy and discordant sounds imagiable. The white banners fluttering before the eyes of my palfrey, and the clattering cymbals which stunned her ears, caused her to take fright and set off at full speed; and in all probability she would have dashed with me from the brow of a neighbouring precipice, to which she was hastening, had not Count Ethelbert fortunately heard my shrieks. He rescued me from my danger, and in return had the happiness (as he called it) to accompany me back to the Castle, and took an opportunity to make by the way a declaration of the most passionate affection.
Another time, late at night I was alarmed by a fire breaking out in my anti-chamber, and the flames spread with sufficient rapidity to make me swoon through terror. When I recovered, I found myself supported by Count Ethelbert, who advised me to save myself by flight from the threatening danger, and seemed perfectly ready to assist me in putting his advice in execution. However, as I had now regained my presence of mind sufficiently to see, that there was no absolute necessity for taking such a step, my flight extended no further than to my uncle’s chamber, whither I requested to be conveyed without delay.
Leopold received my preserver with marked coldness, and concluded his expressions of gratitude with enquiring—“by what strange though fortunate accident he had arrived there so speedily and so exactly at the time, when his assistance was most wanted?”—Ethelbert in his answer talked much of the good angels who watch over the favourites of Heaven, which my uncle heard without any great appearance of satisfaction; and as soon as the Count of Carlsheim had taken his departure, I received a very serious lecture respecting him. My uncle was inclined to believe, that the accident which had lately alarmed my palfrey, and the fire which had thrown me under Ethelbert’s protection, were both devices intended to bind me to him by the chains of gratitude. It was at least certain, that no sooner had my accident taken place, than the bridal procession disappeared; and the fire had done no other damage, than consuming part of the arras with which my anti-chamber was hung.
—“If the Count of Carlsheim is anxious to win your affections,” said my uncle, “why does he not take the straight road to obtain them? why does he not explain his views respecting you to me? there was a time, when I should not have refused you to him, and in which I intended to have done an act of justice by making him once more lord over the possessions of his ancestors, by giving him the hand of Urania, the future heiress of Carlsheim and Sargans.”—
I knew not, what intelligence or what observations could have induced Count Leopold (who was generally so much inclined to think well of every one) so soon to view Ethelbert’s actions in an unfavourable light. As for myself, I gave these accusations by no means implicit confidence; and I strove to find excuses for the conduct of a man, who every time that I saw him made a stronger impression on my heart, and who daily rendered it more difficult for me to suspect him of any thing wrong.
Ethelbert of Carlsheim was unfortunate, and had been deprived of the greatest part of those possessions, which ought to have been his birth right; this alone would have been a sufficient reason for my viewing him with interest; but how much was that interest increased by the discovery, that he employed the little power, which he still possest, in relieving the misfortunes of others; and that by the protection which he granted the opprest, he had himself incurred the animosity of many powerful foes? what could be more noble and more generous than such a proceeding, and how was it possible to suppose, that a man who could act thus, could ever deserve the most distant appearance of suspicion?
Edith, Countess of Mayenfield, was compelled to fly from her castle, by her bitter enemy the ambitious Abbot of St. Gall: she was a widow, and there were suspicions (and those no slight ones) that she was indebted for the removal of her husband to a present of wine from the cellar of this dignified prelate. Willingly would he have also sacrificed the unprotected lady, who was the more dangerous obstacle to the enjoyment of his hopes, inasmuch as she was daily expected to produce a child, which (if a son) would be entitled to the whole possessions of his deceased father.