fine, was Adelaide unconsciously a somnambulist, and my companion on that night, or had I really held a fearful communion with a wanderer from the grave?
I know not—and never may know. My doubts could only be resolved by a minute examination of the coffin; and I dared not violate the sanctuary of the dead. My lawless curiosity had already been productive of too much suffering and punishment to me, to permit me now even to entertain the wish to incur the peril and the shame of disturbing the ashes of the Silver Lady.
From that day, however, it is certain that the once fearful chamber may be inhabited with impunity. Even the most timid peasantry no longer entertain an apprehension of supernatural visitations, since they witnessed the entombment of the mortal remains of her whose spirit had become so renowned and dreaded.
One other circumstance have I still to add. The Baron related to me, that on the night when he had practised on me and the officers the deception of inducing us to watch in a common chamber instead of the haunted one, a female figure, the very counterpart of his daughter, stood by the side of his bed. She was gorgeously and fantastically attired; and the full blaze of her loveliness shone dazzlingly upon him. But, though without her most remarkable, and notorious attribute, the Silver Veil, even before her body had been disentombed, Bentheim never doubted, in consequence of her wonderful resemblance to Adelaide, but that he looked upon the phantom of the ancestress of our house. Twice she appeared before him; the first time, armed with a dagger, which, with a mournful, but reproachful and resolved expression on her beautiful features, she brandished menacingly above his head. The second time, she bore in either hand, a torch, and a goblet;
