University of Virginia Library

4. IV.

“Let not my preliminaries fatigue you. I cannot
get on so well without them. My narrative
has a comprehensive ground-work, and I must
bring the several more striking features of the locality,
in due order, and, not precipitately, before
your eye. Having prepared you, I will now proceed:—

“Living, as they did, in the neighboring village,
and possessed of tastes equally wandering, and, in
the case of Carl, so mingled with romance, it will
not be thought surprising if they spent a great
deal of their leisure time among these old ruins.
They were ruins then, and no obtrusive utilitarian

has presumed, as you may see, to take from their
gray loveliness by making them more useful. The
charm of the spot is the same now as then — if
possible, indeed, the beauty of the ruins is even
greater, for the walls have suffered from subsequent
tempests, and desolation has made more
complete her broken temple. Time is the ally of
romance, and decay takes nothing from her honors!
The source and secret of their beauty have
been steadily increasing; and the domain, loved
by the German youth of whom we speak, is, perhaps,
scarcely less attractive now to us. Touched,
as these dismembered and massive fragments
at this moment are, by the mellow hues of the
fleeting and flickering sunlight, they are, in my
eyes, immeasurably beautiful; and seem to me
as they did to Carl Werner, a fitting abode for
the sleepless and sad spirit — doomed to its midnight
vigil of a thousand years.

“The imagination of Carl Werner had peopled
these ruins with a countless host of inmates, with
wild traditions, with the most pitiable and strange
narratives. It was the theatre where his invention
became most active, and where he continually exercised
it, as much for his own, as for the pleasure
which it gave to Matilda and Herman. He had
explored the many cells which abound among the

ruins — he had groped through the ancient chambers,
until he had, from conjectures frequently exercised,
come to the belief that he could actually
assign the various uses to which they were put:
— and, in some cases, through the aid of local
tradition and domestic history, he even ventured
so far as to say who were their occupants. Though
superstitious to the last degree, and most wilfully
credulous, Carl Werner had no idle fears. The
abbey was his favorite resort even at midnight,
and with Herman, who was something of a daredevil,
along with him, a ramble through the old
chambers at night, when the rising moon began to
peep through the cracks and fissures, was a favorite
mode with Carl Werner of passing those pleasant
hours. It is true, that, at such times, Matilda
never ventured along with the two; but the warm
and spirited fancy of Carl enabled him to embody
for her ears, when they met, the sweet, strange
thoughts of his mind, which, at such periods,
formed the topic of conversation between him and
his companion. These were themes upon which
Carl never failed to be eloquent, and Matilda always
loved to hear. At other times, the three
would wander while the day lasted, in a sort of
mental and dreamy unconsciousness, among the
broken walls, turning thoughtlessly over the marble
stones, laboring now and then to decipher the
inscriptions, and toiling through the ancient
grounds and over the green grave knolls about
the edifice; until, as the sun began to wane, Matilda,
with a growing and beautiful timidity — always
becoming in a young and lovely woman —
would hurry them homeward, leaving the unfinished
story of Carl to find its conclusion at the
evening fireside, which generally brought them
all together like one family. They were soon to
become one, it may as well be said, for, seizing a
favorable moment, the gentle and fond Carl had
whispered to the maiden that he loved her, and she
did not hesitate long to promise that she would be
his. The time was designated for the nuptials, and
the two were quite as happy as mutual love, and
so pleasant a hope, could possibly make them.