no habitual relief against the constant
action of her thoughts, for the sphere of woman narrows the affections in
such a way as to render them most dependent on the little accidents of
domestic life; she could not close her doors against communication with
the kinsmen of her husband, should it be his pleasure to command or his
feeling to desire it; and it would become obligatory on her to listen to
the still but never-ceasing voice of duty, and to forget, at his request,
that she had ever been more fortunate, or that she was born for better
hopes.

We do not say that all these calculations crossed the mind of the musing
maiden, though she certainly had a general and vague view of the
consequences that were likely to be drawn upon herself by a connexion with
Sigismund. She sat motionless, buried in deep thought, long after his
disappearance. The young man had passed by the postern around the base of
the castle, and was descending the mountain-side, across the sloping
meadows, with rapid steps, and probably for the first time since their
acquaintance her eye followed his manly figure vacantly and with
indifference.

Her mind was too intently occupied for the usual observation of the
senses. The whole of that grand and lovely landscape was spread before her
without conveying impressions, as we gaze into the void of the firmament
with our looks on vacuum. Sigismund had disappeared among the walls of the
vineyards, when she arose, and drew such a sigh as is apt to escape us
after long and painful meditation. But the eyes of the high-minded girl
were bright and her cheek flushed, while the whole of her features wore an
expression of loftier beauty than ordinarily distinguished even her
loveliness. Her own resolution was formed. She had decided with the rare
and generous self-devotion of a female heart that loves, and which can
love in its freshness and purity but once. At that instant footsteps were
heard in the corridor, and the three old nobles whom we so lately left on
the castle-terrace, appeared together in the knights' hall.

Melchior de Willading approached his daughter with a joyous face, for he
too had lately gained what he conceived to be a glorious conquest over his
prejudices, and the victory put him in excellent humor with himself.

"The question is for ever decided," he said, kissing the burning forehead
of Adelheid with affection, and rubbing his hands, in the manner of one
who was glad to be free from a pe