othed his
pillow. It wrung the girl's heart to look at him, and again she accused
herself for lack of all tact and discretion, wishing that her guardian
took his disappointment more vengefully, setting her to some detested
task that she might willingly perform.

The hospitable Count, eager that they should stop at least another night
under his roof, pressed his invitation upon them, and the Archbishop
gave a tacit consent.

"If the Countess is not too tired," said Cologne, "I propose that she
accompany me on a little journey I have in view farther up the river. We
will return here in the evening."

"I should be delighted," cried Hildegunde, "for all sense of fatigue has
been swept away by a most restful night."

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."

"It is quite impossible," said the Archbishop firmly.

"Does that mean you will not allow me to adopt the religious life?"

"It means, my child, that I should not feel justified in permitting this
renunciation of the world until you knew