The Castle of Ehrenstein / Its Lords Spiritual and Temporal; Its Inhabitants Earthly and Unearthly

by G. P. R. James

In an instant two other figures were added to the group, one coming from a room on the right hand, and another from the back of the house. The former was that of a lady, perhaps forty years of age, though she looked somewhat older; for her dress was not one calculated to conceal the effects of time, or to set off the lingering beauties that years had spared, to the greatest advantage. It was all of black, except the head gear, which was snowy white, and brought far down over the broad fair brow, almost entirely hiding the hair. The colours were those common to many orders of nuns; and there was something in the form of the dress itself which was in a degree conventual, so that, at first sight, one might have taken her for a recluse; but at the second glance one detected many differences from the garb of any established sisterhood. There was no actual veil, a small portion of the hair was seen; there were rings upon the fingers, and though a cross and rosary were hanging at the girdle, there was a locket round the neck, hanging by a gold chain. The other person seemed a superior servant; but poor Adelaide saw none of those things, and when first she opened her eyes again, she found herself in a small chamber furnished with much taste and some luxury. There was tapestry on the walls, not representing figures, as was so frequently the case; but divided into panels by tall columns worked in the web and covered with arabesques, while in the centre of each panel appeared an exquisitely executed group of flowers. All the moveable furniture was formed of some dark wood beautifully carved, and the sombre hue of the material was relieved by rich crimson velvet here and there, while a fine mirror, and two small but beautiful pictures of the very early school, which began, or perhaps I may almost say preceded, the revival of the arts, were sustained against the walls by poles of iron gilt thrust through the tapestry. As the poor girl recovered more fully, she saw an elderly woman-servant kneeling at the end of the bed on which she was laid, assiduously rubbing her feet, while over her bent a face which seemed to her almost that of an angel, and a soft hand bathed her temple with some fine essences.

"Thank you. Oh, thank you," she said, as soon as she could speak; "how kind you are."

"Hush!" said the lady of the house; "not a word at present, my dear child. You will soon be well again, and then you shall speak. Bring a little wine, Biancha, and some dry garments, for these are still wet."

Adelaide took her hand and pressed it in her own; and the servant hastened away for the things she had been ordered to procure. The nun's gown which Adelaide had worn throughout the day had been already taken off, and she now lay in the ordinary dress of a woman of high rank, which was more distinctly marked from the garments of the lower orders in those days than at present. Her station, therefore, could not be doubted; but yet in the look of deep interest with which the lady gazed upon her, there seemed something more than the mere compassion which might well be felt for one accustomed to every comfort and refinement, exposed suddenly to hardships, dangers, and fatigues, and sinking under them. It was a long, thoughtful, wistful look that she fixed upon her. It seemed to scan her face, and ask deep questions of her heart and mind. It was rather, as if it said, what is beneath that lovely countenance? what spirit is within that graceful form? than merely, what are you? what is your name and place in the cold order of this world's classes? But when the poor girl pressed her hand, and looked up with eyes full of petition as well as thanks, the lady smiled sweetly; and yet some drops gathered in her eyes, and one or two rolled over and bedewed her cheek. Then, bending down her head--perhaps in some degree to hide the tears--she kissed the marble forehead that lay beneath her eyes, and whispered, "You will soon be better.--Hush!--Be patient for a while; we will talk more anon."

The voice was very musical, soft, low, and sweet, with a slight foreign accent; but still so expressive of kindness and tenderness, that had it even used an unknown language, Adelaide would have understood right well its tones of sympathy.

"I am well, now, indeed," she murmured; "and I must thank you from my heart, dear lady, for your kindness."

"Fie!" said her companion; "if you would thank me really, lie still till you have taken some nourishment. Then you shall speak, and tell me all that has befallen you. Oh! here is Biancha--Now take a little wine. Dip a morsel of bread in it first, and swallow that. Then sip the rest. It will not do you harm."

Adelaide followed her directions, shaking her head, however, with a smile, and saying, "It was not food I wanted, but rest and peace."

"Peace!" said the lady, with a melancholy look; "is there such a thing on earth? Alas! my child--"

But she did not finish the sentence; and after her fair guest had taken the wine, she aided the maid to change the wet garments, and put on some loose clothing for her, which, if it fitted not quite well, at least felt warm and comforting.