It was situated upon the border
of the lake, which, by trouvere and troubadour, in song and in verse, in
every age and in every clime, has been so justly celebrated. A few miles
to the southwest the mighty Rhine came tumbling in; who, as the German
poets say, scorns to mingle his mountain stream with the quiet waters of
the lake. We will attempt no further description, for fear of spoiling a
finer picture, which must already exist in the eye of the reader,
created by more skilful hands.

As the horsemen neared the castle, they saw a knight, followed by a few
men, dashing down the hill. Gilbert knew his father, and hastened to
meet him. Their meeting was manly and cordial. The baron stopped but to
embrace his son, and hastened to welcome Father Omehr. He dismounted,
and imprinted a kiss upon the old man's still vigorous hand.

"I should be childless now," he said, "but for your kindness; and you
know that words would but mock my feelings."

The tears in the baron's eyes expressed more than a long oration.

Father Omehr only replied, with a laugh, "You must blame your son's
indiscretion, and not applaud me!" Thus saved from a formal and
unsatisfactory conversation, the knight remounted his horse and led the
way to the castle.

Upon the slope of the hill, half-way between the castle and the lake,
was a chapel built of white stone, which had stood there, according to
tradition, from the ninth century. It was said to have been erected by
Charlemagne, on his second expedition against the Saxons. The Baron of
Hers had ornamented and repaired it with much taste and at great
expense, until it was celebrated throughout the circle of Suabia for its
richness and elegance. It had been dedicated to Mary the Morning Star,
as appeared from a statue of the Blessed Virgin surmounted with a star,
and was called the Pilgrim's Chapel. It was in charge of Herman, a
priest, who had studied at Monte Cassino under the Benedictines, with
Father Omehr, whom he loved as a brother. They had spent their period of
training and had been ordained together; and, for forty years they had
labored in the same vineyard, side by side, yet seldom meeting. When
they did meet, however, it was with the joy and chastened affection
which only the pure-minded and truly religious can know; and they would
recall with tears of happiness the scenes of other days--the splendid
convent, whose church shone like a grotto of jewels and precious
stones--the learned and