THE YOUNG COUNTESS'S STORY.
Having made Mary sit down beside her, the young Countess began her story.
"God is surely with you, dear Mary," said she, "and has taken you under His protection. I see now that He has guided my steps here in order that I might find you for whom we have sought so long. Simple as are the events which I am about to relate to you, we can see in them a chain of truly providential circumstances.
"From the time that your innocence was discovered I had no more rest. You and your father were always pressing on my mind, wandering without home and friends. Believe me, my dear Mary, I have shed many bitter tears on your account. My parents were also deeply distressed at the injustice they had unwittingly done you, and sought for you everywhere; but, as you know, without being able to obtain any trace of you.
"Two days ago we came to a hunting-lodge of the Prince in the forest, not far from this village. For twenty years at least this castle has not been visited, the only occupant being a gamekeeper. My father had gone on business, and had spent the whole day in the forest in company with two noblemen whose wives were staying at the castle. It had been a very warm day, and the evening was very fresh. The setting sun, the mountain covered with pines interspersed with picturesque rocks offered such a beautiful spectacle that I begged permission to take a walk. Accompanied by the gamekeeper's daughter I set out, and as we passed along we found the graveyard gate open, and the tombstones gilded by the light of the setting sun.
"Since my childhood I have always had a pleasure in reading inscriptions and epitaphs on tombstones. I am moved when one tells of a young man or woman carried off in the bloom of youth, and I feel a sort of melancholy pleasure if it concerns a person who had reached advanced age. The verses themselves, poor as they may be from a poetical point of view, stir serious feelings within me, and I never fail to carry away with me from a graveyard good thoughts and pious resolutions.
"Entering the graveyard with the gamekeeper's daughter, I began as usual to read the inscriptions. After a little while the girl said to me, 'Come, I will show you something very beautiful. It is the grave of an old man, who has neither tombstone nor epitaph, but it has been ornamented with taste and beauty by the tender piety of his daughter. See, you can just distinguish it through the thick leaves of these pines—the beautiful rose tree and the basket of flowers.'
"You can imagine, dear Mary, the shock I received, when at the first glance I recognised the basket of flowers which had never been out of my mind since that sad day when you left Eichbourg. If there had been any doubts in my mind as to it being the same basket, the initials of my name and the coat-of-arms of my family would have dispelled them. Turning to my companion, I asked if she knew anything of you and your father. She told me all about your life at Pine Farm, your father's sickness and death, and your great grief. After hearing all that the gamekeeper's daughter could tell me, I went to the minister, only to hear the same story with very much praise of yourself added. I would have gone off to Pine Farm immediately, but while the story was being told me, time had passed rapidly, and it was now already quite dark. 'What shall I do,' said I; 'it is now too late to go to the farm, but to-morrow at daybreak we will set out.' Your good friend the minister sent for the schoolmaster to charge him to go and bring you without delay to the castle.
"'My dear young friend,' said the schoolmaster, 'you need not go far to look for her. She has gone to her father's grave to weep there. Alas, poor child!' he continued, 'I saw her sitting there from an opening in the steeple when I went this afternoon to wind up the clock.'
"I at once determined to find you, and the minister wanted to accompany me, but I begged to be allowed to come to you alone, that my first meeting with you might be as affectionate as I desired. While I came here the old minister went to tell my parents where I was, and to prepare them for your arrival. This accounts, my dear Mary, for my sudden appearance before you. You can now see, through God's providence, this basket of flowers which separated us has reunited us by your father's grave—that father who is now inhabiting the home above."