"My child! my child!" she shrieked, "my own! my beautiful! she is no more."
"This is worse and worse," said the baron, wringing his hands. "This will make us all mad."
But at this moment a boat was seen approaching. It was the miller, who brought with him the body of Adelaide, dripping as it had been drawn from the water. He laid her fair form upon the bank. The baroness, who could not be restrained, threw herself beside her, and kissed her pale lips. Rudolph, too, seized the cold hands.
"She lives!" he exclaimed. "She is not lost to us!"
"Rudolph—dear Rudolph!" murmured the poor girl.
"My child! my child! she lives!" cried the baroness.
And it was indeed so. She had thrown herself into the water, indeed, but the miller, who happened to be at hand, had flown to her rescue, and she was now, by the united efforts of her friends, restored to consciousness.
"Dear, dear Adelaide!" cried the baroness; "your life repays me now for all my sufferings. Yes, dearest, you are my own, my only child. Yes, baron," she added, noticing the incredulous expression of her husband—"the supposed death of a daughter has wrung from a mother's heart the despairing cry that betrayed her secret. In former days, I married, secretly, Colonel Schonfeldt, a brave soldier of the emperor, against whom my parents cherished a deadly enmity. He fell upon the field of battle, and this poor girl, the fruit of our love, was committed to the hands of strangers, till such time as I could take her to my heart. I avow it without shame, nor can you, baron, whose noble qualities won my heart, reproach me with the love I bear this dear girl."
"She is my child now," said the baron, "as well as yours. Let us take her back to the castle; she is a precious charge."
"I will see to her," said Rudolph, "and it shall not be my fault if she ever have another protector."