The small estate, which Count Leopold had alone reserved for himself out of all the wide-extended possessions, which his generosity had bestowed on my ungrateful husband, was in a perfect uproar, and his few vassals were already in arms. As our arrival made these preparations unnecessary for our rescue, it was determined that they should be employed for our revenge. As for Edith and myself, we entreated that peace might be preserved; we implored my uncle to recollect the great superiority of strength and riches, which our foes possest: but how difficult is it to prevail on an antient warrior to lay aside the sword long accustomed to victory!
—“Oh! Edith,” he replied to our supplications, “spare me these entreaties; the unmanly conduct of your tyrant is too base to be permitted to pass unpunished. Reflect, of how many happy years the monster has deprived us, which we might have passed together in peace and joy; reflect too, that he robbed you, my innocent Urania, of your good name, and by that means of the assistance of your best, your only friend. Fool that I was, how could I have been so credulous as to believe his calumny! How artfully did he long contrive to keep me ignorant of his separation from you! and when at length the remonstrances of Henric Melthal, and the cries of your faithful Gertrude, penetrated to my solitude, how skilfully did he lull to rest my love and my anxiety by slanderous tales, to which your uncle (under whose eye you had so long past a life of the purest innocence) ought never to have given credit?”—
Such being his feelings, it was impossible for our entreaties to make any impression on Count Venosta. He was positively determined to punish the Count of Carlsheim, not only for the crimes which he had committed, but for the error which (through him) he had himself been induced to commit. For this purpose he conducted us to the strong Castle of Upper Halbstein, on the banks of the Rhine, which was situated not far from the scene of action, and consequently was then more convenient for our abode than the distant vale of Munster.
Scarcely had we reached the Castle, when we received a pleasure totally unexpected, but long most anxiously desired. In vain had we endeavoured to discover, what was become of the youthful Minna of Mayenfield, whom I had been compelled to leave behind in Count Ethelbert’s power. My uncle assured us, that no sooner had he been informed of my departure from the Castle of Sargans, than in hopes of gaining some consolation for my loss, he had requested the Count of Carlsheim to entrust her to his care. His application however had been unsuccessful; and the only intelligence which he could gain respecting her was, that on the day after my forcible departure from Sargans, Gertrude had found means to quit the Castle privately, and had been accompanied in her flight by the Damsel of Mayenfield. Yet when Gertrude made her appearance at Count Venosta’s to prevail on him to attempt my deliverance, and was questioned respecting the above report, she denied any knowledge of the place of Minna’s concealment. The mystery was now dissolved; on the day after our arrival at the Castle on the Rhine, I had the pleasure of being welcomed by my faithful Gertrude!
—“Oh! my dear ladies!” she exclaimed, while she threw herself at our feet, and prest an hand of each alternately to her lips, “how much have I felt for your misfortunes! how much trouble has it cost me to preserve for you that treasure, which I am now going to restore! I dared not intrust it to the custody of the weak and credulous Count Venosta; but under your care our lovely girl can have nothing to apprehend.”—
Scarcely had Gertrude ceased to speak, when a blooming maiden about sixteen, whose charms perfectly answered the expectation of what was promised by the childhood of Minna of Mayenfield, rushed into the room, and bedewed with tears of filial affection the bosom of the delighted Edith: it was her beloved, her long-lost daughter. Bewildered with joy, for some time neither the mother nor myself could do any thing but gaze upon and embrace the weeping Minna; and Gertrude recounted without being attended to, why she had so obstinately denied any knowledge of her concealment, and had resolved not to intrust her to the care of my uncle, who had suffered himself to be so grossly deluded by the slanders of the Count of Carlsheim.
It was long, before we could recover ourselves enough to thank the trusty Gertrude, and listen to the tale of Minna’s adventures, of which a detailed account will be found among my papers (as well as a supplement containing what afterwards happened to her) under the title of “Minna of Homburg.” Suffice it to say in brief, that I had no sooner been torn from the arms of the afflicted Minna in order to be conveyed to Ravenstein, than Gertrude hurried her away from Sargans, and hastened to conceal her in the celebrated convent of Zurich. Their whole wealth in gold and jewels was scarcely sufficient to pay for their entrance into this consecrated retreat, which (as is well known) is seldom open but to ladies of the highest rank; and Gertrude’s prudence forbade her announcing her young charge as a daughter of the House of Mayenfield.
Here they remained under feigned names quiet and concealed, unknown to, and even scarcely remarked by their hostesses the Nuns, till Minna’s expanding beauty began to excite attention. The Abbot of St. Gall, and the Bishop of Coira were more frequent than usual in their visits to the Domina, and never suffered an opportunity to escape them of bestowing a blessing on the lovely stranger. Gertrude, who had never been observed to judge the actions of the dignitaries of the church too favourably, suspected that her pupil was no longer safe at Zurich, and determined to change her abode, which she had the power of doing without difficulty.
This excellent woman had been long courted by a man of no small consequence in the village of Stein; he was in every respect deserving of a reciprocal attachment, and she had long since acknowledged her consciousness, of his merit; but still the affection which she felt for me, with whom she had lived even from my infancy, was so great, that she could not prevail on herself to quit me. After the loss of me and Edith, when the young Minna was left entirely to her care, she was less disposed than ever to think of altering her situation. A cloister seemed to her the only proper retreat for herself and her adopted daughter; and she contented herself with only seeing her faithful lover at such few hours, as she could steal from her attentions to Minna. Then she confided to him her grief for our loss, and her anxiety for the fate of her pupil. He was her only confident; and now that the holy walls seemed to afford no longer a secure retreat, Werner Bernsdorf became more urgent in his entreaties, that Gertrude would exchange her abode at the Convent for an husband’s house.
Gertrude at length consented to become his wife, and accepted the protection, which he offered for herself and her lovely charge. She quitted the Convent privately; and they had already past a year in his dwelling at Stein in a manner which left them nothing to desire, except that which they now enjoyed, the embraces of those dear friends whose loss they had never ceased to lament.