I consumed the remainder of the night in examining, what could be the meaning of this midnight visit? I put together the few fragments of the Spectre’s discourse, which had reached my hearing; and at first I concluded, that the Abbot (from some motive or other, but from what I vainly strove to form a guess) had falsely accused himself of being the author of the mysterious warning; and that the parchment and the spectre, which had both been conveyed into my apartment so unaccountably, must needs have some connection. However, more mature reflection left me no doubt, that both the one and the other were artifices employed by the detested Monk to betray me into his power; and I resolved never again to sleep in this suspicious room, which so easily afforded entrance either to corporeal villains or to immaterial apparitions.
My resolution was taken, and I executed it. The insolent house-keeper was well pleased to hear, that I meant to quit this handsome apartment with its noble prospect over hill and dale, and which she immediately appropriated to her own use; while I was contented to take hers in exchange. I have accordingly established myself in a small chamber in the Western Tower, where the only attendant who is suffered to approach me is an old house-maid, who has out lived two generations of the family of Carlsheim. She is a kind-hearted creature, and frequently endeavours to beguile me from weeping over my doubtful and gloomy prospects by many a tale of events long past, and which now only exist in her recollection.
Part of what she has told me, I shall now repeat, since it seems to have some connection with my midnight visitor. The old Bertha listened with great attention, while I recounted what had happened, and paused for some time, before she made any observation.
—“Lady,” said she, “it is clear to me, that you are deceived in supposing, that what you saw on that mysterious night was either the delusion of a dream, or the artifice of some villain; no, lady, no! as sure as you sit there, you have been visited by the real spectre of a dead man!
“Long ago ... (Lord forgive me! it is long indeed, since I came to live in this Castle!) long ago was that very apartment the bed-chamber of the good Countess Urania, who (they say) is still living in some Convent or other. Her husband Count Ethelbert was a cruel man, almost such another as my lord your father, whom Heaven mend, I pray it! well! the Monks of Cloister-Curwald expelled their Abbot and the good Prior Matthias, who took refuge with the Countess; and by means of a subterraneous passage she enabled them to escape. Unluckily Count Ethelbert was among the number of their enemies; in a passion he sent his wife away from Sargans, and then descended into the subterraneous chambers to seek for the fugitives. An old servant of Count Ethelbert’s assured me, that his lord discovered two of them, and brought them back to that very chamber, where they were tortured in hopes of making them confess some secret or other, though what I know not. At length they were put back into one of the subterraneous dungeons, whose entrance the Count caused to be walled up, and there they were left to perish with hunger. Ah! lady, lady! the dead, if they choose it, could reveal many a cruel act, of which we little dream! many of my fellow-servants, when afterwards Ethelbert lost his senses, could not comprehend much of his ravings; alas! I comprehended them well! I knew much that must have prest heavy on his conscience, and which now is known to few except myself.
“After a time the bodies of the good Monks were removed from the cavern, because it was said, that their spirits appeared in that chamber, and wept, and wailed so piteously, that nobody could sleep for the noise! yet they were not allowed Christian burial, but were cast into that ruined draw-well in the little back-court, in which finally Ethelbert himself lost his life, being thrown into it by the Abbot Guiderius. So you see, lady, crimes ever meet with their just punishment, while innocence often is rewarded, and always is avenged; which I mention for your own consolation. But as I was saying, doubtless it was the blessed spirit of one of these good Friars, which appeared to you the other night; and truly it is a pity, that your fear prevented you from listening to what he said, for I warrant you, he had good cause for coming. However, it is now too late; and methinks as matters stand, you will do well to take the only means of security now left you as soon as possible and enter into the holy sisterhood of St. Roswitha, where you will be well taken care of, both in body and soul.”—
Such was the discourse of my old attendant, which in truth was not calculated to abate the awful impression made on me by this mysterious visit! however, whether her explanation was right or false, it is certain, that the advice contained in the conclusion of her speech was the best that could be given. I have just received an order from my father to hasten my departure, since in a few days he means to bring home his young bride, and will be displeased to find me still at Sargans.
In Continuation.
Then my father has renounced me, and for ever! renounced me for Helen’s sake, and as they tell me, at Helen’s persuasion! oh! how much must she be changed, if she knows and countenances the severity, with which I am treated. Then farewell my paternal mansion, and welcome, ye holy walls! yet why should I grieve to go? what do I lose in the one? what have I to fear in the other?
And yet methinks, I do not feel quite satisfied in seeking the Convent of St. Roswitha. Oh! if it were but possible to escape to Zurich, where Urania.... But alas! this is impracticable. A strong guard is appointed to conduct me, not whither I wish to go, but whither my father chuses me to be carried.