The good-natured Count left them to their own devices, and shortly afterwards guardian and ward rode together down the steep declivity to the river. The mist was already driven away, except a wisp here and there clinging to the gray surface of the water, trailing along as if drawn by the current, for the air was motionless, and there was promise of a sultry day. They proceeded in silence until a bend in the Rhine shut Caub and its sinister water-prison out of sight, and then it was the girl who spoke.
“Guardian,” she said, “have I offended you beyond forgiveness?”
A gentle smile came to his lips as he gazed upon her with affection.
“You have not offended me at all, my dear,” he said, “but I am grieved at thwarting circumstance.”
“I have been thinking over circumstances too, and hold myself solely to blame for their baffling opposition. I will submit without demur to whatever length of imprisonment may please, and, if possible, soften the Archbishop of Mayence. After my release I shall ask your consent that I may forthwith join the Sisterhood at Nonnenwerth. I wish to divide my wealth equally between yourself and the convent.”
The Archbishop shook his head.
“I could not accept such donation.”
“Why not? The former Archbishop of Cologne accepted Linz from my ancestress Matilda.”
“That was intended to be but a temporary loan.”
“Well; call my benefaction temporary if you like, to be kept until I call for it, but meanwhile to be used at your discretion.”