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