It seemed, as if at this period every kind of misfortune had conspired to ruin this once so happy Province. It was visited by continual storms, such as had never before taken place within the memory of man: the mountain-torrents deluged the country with unusual fury; nor was it possible for the cultivators, industrious as they were, to bring their ruined fields into order again, till a considerable time had elapsed. The crops failed; prices rose; at length the distress became universal, and it was soon followed by the twin-sisters of Death, Famine and Disease.
Rosanna saw so many of the venerable fathers of the Valley sink into the grave, and wept over the tombs of so many of her youthful friends, that she could not but expect the lot soon to fall upon herself and her good old grandfather. The first was as earnestly desired by Her, who languished to embrace her Erwin in the land of shadows, as the latter was looked forward to with terror. She anxiously wished to lengthen the days of one, who was now almost her only friend, and she implored him to retire for a while from a spot become so dangerous. It was not far from Tell’s habitation to the Convent of Engelberg, and there the plague had not as yet commenced its ravages. Mary obtained permission from the Abbess to take possession of an uninhabited monastery, which made part of the domains of Engelberg; and she now hastened like some benevolent Angel to guide her sickening relations to the place of refuge, which she had found for them, and where she proposed to be their nurse herself. As many as were still capable of moving, blest her, and followed her to the Monastery; Rosanna and Tell made part of the melancholy caravan, which Death had taken care to prevent from being numerous. In defiance of the extreme danger, Mary resided with them, and administered to their necessities with her own hands. Her exertions were crowned with their deserved success; she had the happiness of rescuing all her patients from the grave, except the grey-headed Tell. Yet even He did not fall a martyr to the plague; Mary’s unceasing efforts had relieved him from that poisonous enemy; but the weight of near an hundred years prest him down, and forbade his ever rising again from that bed, from whose side, during the time of his most imminent danger, he had vainly entreated Mary and her sister to retire and attend to their own preservation.
—“My children,” said he at length, when no doubt remained that the hour of his death was at hand, “I feel, that we must part: and long as my worldly course has lasted, still at its close does nothing press heavy on my heart except the reflection, that I leave your fate and fortunes undecided. Rosanna, have you communicated to your sister those circumstances, which I thought fit to lay before you, in order that you might be convinced, that an union with Erwin Melthal would be ill-sorted and improper in every point of view?”—
Rosanna replied in the negative; she had of late found but few opportunities, she said, of seeing her sister; and even when they were together, the Lady Abbess (whose notions of decorum had been greatly shocked at the share, which Mary had taken in the Chapel-scene) had watched them with such vigilance, as effectually prevented any confidential communications. She concluded her apology for having so long neglected to obey his injunctions, by entreating him to suffer Mary to retain the pleasing illusion that she had a right to his affection; an illusion, with which she herself had parted so unwillingly.
—“It must not be,” answered the expiring Tell; “it is necessary, that both of you should be aware, that you are no grandchildren of mine. The story of your birth is long; Rosanna is informed of all the circumstances, and will relate them to you, my gentle Mary, at some hour of leisure: at present learn from me such points, as are most essential.
“You and your sister are the sole remaining descendants of the younger branch of the ancient and illustrious families of Carlsheim and Sargans. That you have past so large a portion of your lives in obscurity, and that your great expectations are still in so questionable a state, you must accuse the superstitious obstinacy of the Countess, your deceased mother. She was a daughter of the Count of Mayenfield, and her extraordinary beauty made her the object of universal admiration. Among her suitors were numbered the heads of the two families of Torrenburg and Werdenberg, both equally descended from the united House of Carlsheim and Sargans. The latter was accepted; the former was not only rejected, but even held by your mother in the most absolute detestation. On the contrary, the Count of Torrenburg (who is still alive, and whose excellent heart never harboured resentment against any human being,) not only forgave the slight, but continued on the most friendly terms with his successful rival. He succeeded in expelling from his bosom his unfortunate passion, bestowed his heart on another lady more capable of estimating its worth, and his marriage was blest with two sons, as was that of the Count of Werdenberg with two daughters. On this fortunate occurrence taking place, the fathers entered into the most solemn engagements to unite their children in marriage, and by this means blend inseparably their mutual claims upon the inheritance of each other.
“My lovely girls, you were these daughters thus betrothed while in the cradle: I cannot express to you the repugnance, with which your mother entertained the idea, that she should one day hear you call the sons of the Count of Torrenburg by the name of husband. The antipathy, which she bore that family, was increased a thousandfold by the death of her husband; on which event the great domains of your father (according to the long-established customs of the Houses, to which you owe your origin) fell to the only remaining male heirs of the Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans, the Count of Torrenburg and his sons. The prospect of recovering the whole of this inheritance by your union with those sons, and the generous offers made by their father for her accommodation, had no effect in softening her animosity: she felt, that it was less disagreeable to lose every thing and sacrifice both herself and you, than to depart in any degree from her obstinate resolution.
“Accordingly she quitted the Castle of Werdenberg in the greatest privacy, and concealed herself in my humble habitation. I had been long known to her, and in general had been honoured with her confidence; but she carefully hid from me the real situation of her affairs and the true motives of her conduct. She did not long survive the loss of her husband; grief for his death and vexation at the good fortune of Torrenburg rapidly destroyed her health. On her death-bed she demanded from me a solemn oath, that I would adopt her orphan-daughters for my own, and would bring them up according to the instructions, which after her decease I should find conveyed in writing.
“That your prudent mother should prefer your being educated in the lap of rural innocence and tranquillity, rather than in the tumult of the great world, did not surprise me in the least, and I readily gave the oath demanded. But when after her death I learned from her papers the whole extent of my promise, and found myself enjoined to spread the report of your death, and never to disclose your real names, unless circumstances should give you a just claim to the inheritance of your ancestors, my surprise was extreme; and gladly would I have called back the oath, which your mother had carried with her into the grave, and which therefore was irrevocable.
“As the case stood, no choice was left me, and I was compelled to obey your mother’s injunctions respecting your education. It greatly comforted me to find, that the secret of your real station was not confined to myself. The deceased Countess mentioned in her will, that the Bishop of Coira and the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald (both of them related to her though but distantly) were aware of her design, and had sanctioned it with their consent; and I concluded, that since her determination had found favour in the eyes of such learned and respectable persons, it must needs have claims to approbation, which my own understanding was too short-sighted to discover.