ey mingled their tears
together.

CHAPTER XXXII. A SPOT TO BE BURIED IN.

ON their return homeward, Du-----e took the third seat in the carriage,
and endeavoured, with his usual vivacity, to cheer the spirits of his
companions; and such was the elasticity of Gertrude's nature, that with
her, he, to a certain degree, succeeded in his kindly attempt. Quickly
alive to the charms of scenery, she entered by degrees into the external
beauties which every turn in the road opened to their view; and the
silvery smoothness of the river, that made the constant attraction
of the landscape, the serenity of the time, and the clearness of the
heavens, tended to tranquillize a mind that, like a sunflower, so
instinctively turned from the shadow to the light.

Once Du-----e stopped the carriage in a spot of herbage, bedded among
the trees, and said to Gertrude, "We are now in one of the many places
along the Neckar which your favourite traditions serve to consecrate.
Amidst yonder copses, in the early ages of Christianity, there dwelt a
hermit, who, though young in years, was renowned for the sanctity of his
life. None knew whence he came, nor for what cause he had limited the
circle of life to the seclusion of his cell. He rarely spoke, save when
his ghostly advice or his kindly prayer was needed; he lived upon herbs,
and the wild fruits which the peasants brought to his cave; and every
morning and every evening he came to this spot to fill his pitcher from
the water of the stream. But here he was observed to linger long after
his task was done, and to sit gazing upon the walls of a convent which
then rose upon the opposite side of the bank, though now even its ruins
are gone. Gradually his health gave way beneath the austerities he
practised; and one evening he was found by some fishermen insensible on
the turf. They bore him for medical aid to the opposite convent; and one
of the sisterhood, the daughter of a prince, was summoned to attend
the recluse. But when his eyes opened upon hers, a sudden recognition
appeared to seize both. He spoke; and the sister threw herself on the
couch of the dying man, and shrieked forth a name, the most famous in
the surrounding country,--the name of a once noted minstrel, who, in
those rude times, had mingled the poet with the lawless chief, and was
supposed, years since, to have fallen in one of the desperate frays
between prince and outlaw, which were then common; storming the very
castle wh