HOW SHE WAS SAVED.
In a former chapter I described the mysterious disappearance of Dorina
at the ball given in the caves at Hohenstein, on the eve of her
bridal-day, as it was told by my mother. Soon after that fatal night her
father died--he never recovered the shock; and his only brother
(Cunigunda’s father) was killed from a fall while out hunting, not long
after he had succeeded to the family titles and estates.
Cunigunda’s grief at the loss of her father and uncle was apparently so
great that she became almost mad, and was said to have attempted
suicide, from which she was only saved by the cleverness and promptitude
of her old nurse. She then declared that she could never live at
Hohenstein, but that she would go and take the veil in the Convent of
Udine, where she had been brought up with Dorina. She went first to
Venice, to take leave of some of her relations; and among others she
expressed a wish to see her cousin, Count Rossi. He had remained at
Hohenstein till the death of his betrothed’s father, as he felt that his
presence was some consolation to the broken-hearted Graf. Cunigunda
remained there apparently for the same reason, so that they had been
thrown much together during that time of suspense and suffering.
Probably the fascinating Cunigunda may have been still more charming in
her apparent sorrow, and in her efforts to cheer the bereaved father and
bridegroom. Certain it is that when Count Rossi heard that, after her
own father’s death, Cunigunda attempted to kill herself from temporary
madness, and after that, of her determination to take the veil, he was
deeply moved; and when, on her arrival at Venice, she expressed a wish
to see him, ere she quitted the world for ever, he most readily acceded
to her request. She was staying at her aunt’s palace, and the old lady
was in the room with her when Count Rossi was announced, but she soon
withdrew, and the Count had a long interview with his beautiful cousin.
Whether she appealed to his feelings of compassion for her misery, or
what other spells she made use of, can never be known; but the result
was that, instead of becoming a nun, she soon afterwards became Countess
Rossi. They had of course long before given up all idea that Dorina
could have survived; and even when the English gentleman who disappeared
with her in the cave--even when he proved to be alive many months
afterwards, it only confirmed their belief that she must have died,
otherwise he would have been able to give some account of her; but this
gentleman felt convinced that the lovely Gräfinn must have been drowned
in the stream into which he fancied they both must have fallen.
However, it appeared afterwards that she did not fall into the water,
but between the rocks near it.
The account Dorina afterwards gave was that she supposed she was stunned
for some time by the fall, but, on recovering consciousness, she groped
a long way in the dark through the passages and caves. Sometimes they
were quite narrow, and again, in other parts, she seemed to pass through
large spaces where the ground was very uneven. She thought that she must
have walked many miles, but in what direction she could, of course, give
no idea. At length her strength was beginning to fail, and she was on
the point of sinking down in despair, when she fancied a streak of light
was visible in the far distance. With renewed hope she again dragged on
her weary limbs, though almost fainting with exhaustion.
On--on she walked, but the ground was so uneven that she several times
lost sight of the cheering though still far distant ray of light. It was
certainly the light of day, therefore she was made aware how many hours
she had been in the cave, and that light could not be anywhere near
Hohenstein, for she knew that even there she was far below the level,
and, moreover, that there was no other approach to them than the spot
where the ball had taken place.
She was able to proceed but very slowly, and her progress was still more
retarded by her efforts to keep that bit of light in sight, for if she
walked straight on she lost sight of it, and it was only by keeping on
the higher portions of the ground that she could see it at all. At last
it seemed to become somewhat larger, and she made a still greater effort
to proceed.
But the ground became very wet and slippery, and, in her haste, she
fell. After that she remembered nothing, but she afterwards heard that a
young girl, the daughter of a smuggler, who lived at the outside of the
caverns, discovered her lying among the rocks, apparently dead. Then she
carried her home, and her mother made great efforts to restore
animation. They found that she had received a deep wound on the side of
her head.
Dorina supposed that they treated her with as much skill and kindness
as was compatible with their own safety. It seemed that she had not been
able to speak or move for several months; that the blow had affected her
mind, for she had no recollection of where she had been, or what had
taken place, till she seemed to wake suddenly, and found her own old
nurse sitting by her bedside.
This nurse was the grand-daughter of the English attendant who had gone
to Germany with the Lady Alice Roland, when she married Graf von
Hohenstein; and it so happened that this woman’s brother-in-law, Müller,
had turned out badly, and joined the band of these robbers or smugglers
who infested a part of the country near Adelsberg, and made use of the
least-known portions of the caverns for purposes of concealment.
But four months had passed before Frau Müller had any tidings of her
loved young lady, and it was by the merest chance that the lost bride
was still alive, although her reason appeared to be completely gone. It
was after the death of Cunigunda’s father, and the young heiress had
gone, as we have already stated, to Venice, to take the veil in its
neighbourhood.