doubtful about the truth of the tale; and I thought the fiction of the gnome infinitely more probable. Moreover, I was quite at ease about the security of the tower; for Hartmann was building it up as if he was completing a work which was to sustain a siege.
I was more uneasy about Adelaide, in whom I remarked a very unusual disquietude. This even seemed to strike her father; and he questioned her repeatedly on the cause of her anxiety, but never could elicit any satisfactory answer. I thought he appeared much distressed, and apprehended, as the source of her sadness, a renewal of a power of second sight, which he had formerly remarked in her. Many of the servants too, especially the older ones, became thoughtful and observant, and looked at her and each other significantly.
At last, an event occurred which but too fatally confirmed her gloomy presentiments. News came from the army that young Bentheim had fallen in battle. The agony and despair of the father and sister were beyond all description. With his only son he lost the power of bequeathing the greatest part of his property; and every prospect of assuring a brilliant existence to his daughter after his death, was destroyed.
The sincere and deep sympathy which I felt for the family in these melancholy circumstances, caused me to enjoy greater intimacy with the fair Adelaide. She confessed that she had anticipated some dreadful calamity; but she had no power whatever of precisely specifying its nature; for the images and feelings which had floated in her mind were so indistinct, that she could only seize the general idea of an impending misfortune. Not until the night immediately before the sad news arrived, had the form of her brother mingled with these vague anticipations of evil.
I asked her whether she frequently experienced similar presentiments? She told me that no sad or joyful event ever
