Yet was not Edmund entirely idle. His wife’s anxiety respecting the Damsels of Sargans had formerly induced him to make enquiries respecting their fate; but Wolfenrad (whose sole view was to remove the husband, in order that the unprotected wife might fall a prey during his absence) had taken care to direct his search, where he well knew that it must be fruitless. Edmund at length discovered the trick, and incensed at having been sent on such a wild-goose-chase, he hastened back accompanied by a band of well-armed companions, determined to revenge the insult. His vengeance was complete, and now at Amabel’s request he again resumed his search after the Damsels of Sargans: nor was it long before he ascertained, that report had said no more than the truth, when she asserted that Amalberga was a captive in the dungeons of Rassburg, and that Emmeline had really perished among the flames. To rescue the one and to revenge the other now formed the only subject of the conversations, which passed between Gertrude, Amabel, and her husband.
The more they discussed the circumstances, the more dreadful did the fate of the two sisters appear, and the more difficult of execution did they find their plans respecting them. They were conscious, that without some powerful supporter, their strength was insufficient for the undertaking; and Amabel’s thoughts immediately suggested to her the names of two young knights, to whom at a former period the Damsels of Sargans had been by no means indifferent, and who (she doubted not) would still feel so much interest about them, as to forward her wish to avenge the death of the one and procure the deliverance of the other.
On enquiry, it appeared, that but few hopes could be grounded upon the aid of Count Herman of Werdenberg. Suspicions, injurious to Emmeline’s character, had made him resolve to conquer his passion for her: but to eradicate her from his heart had not been found a task so easy, as he imagined; and at length he had quitted Germany, tormented by his unsatisfied love, and by anger at himself for not having succeeded in overcoming it. He was at this time in England, whence his relations had solicited his return most earnestly, but in vain.
But little as was to be expected from Count Herman, so much the more was to be hoped from the noble Eginhart of Torrenburg, and it was resolved that Edmund should hasten to him without delay: it was not long before he returned accompanied by the youthful hero.
There are reasons, which it is unnecessary to disclose, which make it particularly painful to me to trace the name of Torrenburg, and to recollect how closely his fate is interwoven with that of Amalberga of Sargans: but it must be done, and I will not complain. Yes, there ought to be now no sacrifice too difficult for my heart to make: there shall be none!
Eginhart of Torrenburg, who had formerly been as closely bound to Helen of Homburg through motives of policy, as he was now attached by affection and his own choice to the lovely Amalberga, was at length free from his engagements to the former, and at liberty to bestow his hand according to the dictates of his heart.
Helen (alas for that poor Helen!) had been carried off on her bridal-day by that fierce terrific tyrant, Donat, Count of Carlsheim and Sargans: force had compelled her to become his wife! Angels of innocence, where were you then lingering, that you gave the unfortunate no warning-sign of the danger, into which she was on the brink of falling? Yet scarcely can I decide, which would have been the harder fate; to become the victim of Count Donat, or with a heart glowing with love to be delivered into the arms of a husband, whose soul was in secret devoted to another, and whose hand was only given to the wretched Helen from motives of honour and respect for his plighted word.
Instead of the expected bride, the news of her being carried off reached the Castle of Torrenburg, where the wedding was to have been celebrated. Though love had no share in his concern on this occasion, compassion for the unfortunate girl, and the insult thus offered to himself, made the young Count immediately place himself at the head of his vassals, and hasten to rescue the intended victim from Donat’s clutches.
Helen, who had been compelled to assent to this unhallowed union at the Castle of Upper Halbstein, was now ordered to follow her unamiable Lord to another of his fortresses situated southwards among the Rhœtian Alps. She received the command with joy, for at the Castle of Sargans she hoped at least to receive the consolations of friendship. Her step-daughters had been the play-fellows of Helen’s childhood during several weeks; and since their separation occasional letters and messages conveyed by third persons had frequently assured her, that she still lived in the remembrances of her early friends. In their embraces she hoped to find some alleviation of her sufferings: she flattered herself also, that the station which she was now to fill in their house, would give her frequent opportunities of making the situation of the poor girls more happy than it had been hitherto; and this reflexion prevented her from feeling herself quite miserable.
Cruel fate decreed, that her journey, which was made in company with her husband and under the protection of a numerous retinue, should be interrupted by the arrival of the Count of Torrenburg and his forces. It was now, that for the first time she saw the bridegroom, whom fortune had destined never to be hers; for whose character she had ever been taught to entertain the highest admiration; and whose sight (for oh! there never yet was man more formed to captivate the soul of woman) was sufficient to make her feel, how near her happiness had been, and how completely it was now lost to her for ever.