"My child! my child! she lives!" cried the baroness.

And it was indeed so. She had thrown herself into the water, indeed,
but the miller, who happened to be at hand, had flown to her rescue,
and she was now, by the united efforts of her friends, restored to
consciousness.

"Dear, dear Adelaide!" cried the baroness; "your life repays me now
for all my sufferings. Yes, dearest, you are my own, my only child.
Yes, baron," she added, noticing the incredulous expression of her
husband--"the supposed death of a daughter has wrung from a mother's
heart the despairing cry that betrayed her secret. In former days, I
married, secretly, Colonel Schonfeldt, a brave soldier of the emperor,
against whom my parents cherished a deadly enmity. He fell upon the
field of battle, and this poor girl, the fruit of our love, was
committed to the hands of strangers, till such time as I could take
her to my heart. I avow it without shame, nor can you, baron, whose
noble qualities won my heart, reproach me with the love I bear this
dear girl."

"She is my child now," said the baron, "as well as yours. Let us take
her back to the castle; she is a precious charge."

"I will see to her," said Rudolph, "and it shall not be my fault if
she ever have another protector."

So the party regained the castle, where Von Steinberg and Julia were
anxiously awaiting their return.