—“I am sorry to hear this,” replied the Bishop; “should children spring from this union, the claims of our wards will be completely annihilated.”—
—“In which case will they be made unhappy?” said the Abbot (who thought liberally on the subject, and to whom the lady, on whom the Count’s choice was supposed to have fallen, was even more dear than Constantia and her sister).—“Their rank is acknowledged; the sums left by their mother in our charge are sufficient to secure them against absolute want; their desires are moderate; neither will Frederick’s generosity fail to provide for them in a manner suitable to their station. But to expect that he should sacrifice the point, on which he grounds the happiness of his whole future life, in order that his inheritance may descend unimpaired to these unexpected newcomers, is really more than I can possibly justify to myself.”—
This conversation was communicated to the Sisters: they heard it with indifference. They were too little acquainted with the world to think much about events, which might affect their future interests, and were too grateful to their benefactor to wish for more favours from him, than such as he could grant without injury to his own feelings. But had they known on whom their uncle’s choice had fallen, they would have offered up their most fervent prayers for the success of his suit; and would have looked forward to the wedding-day with as much heart-felt pleasure, as to any which they had ever witnessed, while they were still the daughters of old Tell and Inhabitants of the happy Vale of Rutelis.
In the circle of young women, with whom their near relationship to the Count of Torrenburg necessarily brought them acquainted, none attracted their affection so strongly, as the beautiful Elizabeth of March. The interest, which Ida felt for this charming stranger was shortly reciprocal: yet it is probable, that Constantia would in the end have obtained the largest share of Elizabeth’s friendship and confidence, on account of that winning softness of manner and gentleness of temper, which made her a much more universal favourite than her gay and thoughtless sister, had she not thought proper to retire for a while from the world not long after the commencement of her acquaintance with Elizabeth. In spite of Ida’s remonstrances, Constantia entreated her uncle to suffer her to pass some time in the Convent of Zurich, and easily obtained her request.
It seems, that lovely as were the Ladies of Werdenberg, and general as was the admiration which they excited, still there was not so violent a contest for the possession of their hands, as the good Bishop had expected. It was known, that they were dowerless orphans; and as their uncle’s marriage (though not publicly spoken of) was much circulated in whispers, this event, which was likely to annihilate at once all the lofty claims of the Sisters, made their admirers think it to the full as prudent to confine their admiration for the present to their own breasts. The gentle Constantia alone found in the young Count of Thuringia one, who would have chosen her as his bride, had she been still the daughter of the peasant Tell. Constantia on her side felt, how generous was the youth’s conduct, and could not doubt the sincerity of his love: her heart inclined her to listen to him: but she could not consent to break her religious determinations so quickly and so lightly; and she retired into the Convent, that she might at least weigh the matter maturely, and try her suitor’s patience and perseverance a little by the test of time.
After her departure, the friendship of Elizabeth and Ida acquired strength daily; though their intercourse was much restricted by Count Frederick’s evident dissatisfaction at it, which the unsuspecting Ida attributed to some unaccountable antipathy conceived by her uncle against her lovely friend. The fact was, that with all his excellent qualities the Count was not without his weaknesses; among the chief of which maybe reckoned suspicion, bigotry, and a fondness for mystery even in the most innocent things. The last induced him carefully to conceal the proposals which (under the seal of secrecy) he had laid before Elizabeth’s father: the first, made him fancy, that Ida had fathomed his purpose, and from interested motives had endeavoured to set her friend against him; and his superstitious enthusiasm led him to believe that the best means of obtaining Elizabeth’s heart and hand was to tell his rosary more frequently than ever, and bestow enormous donations on the Church. He gave much; he promised more; and those promises were not breathed in inattentive ears. The Count’s domestic Priest and the chaplain of the March family found, that their own advantage was concerned in the accomplishment of Count Frederick’s wishes; and they held many a secret and serious conference on the means of bringing about this union. Besides the grand inducement of avarice, Father Hilarius (so was the priest of Torrenburg named) had additional motives for action. He looked on the Damsels of Werdenberg with all that aversion, which old family-servants ever bear to new-comers; whom they generally consider as intruders, and whom they fear, lest by their influence their own should be diminished. But with most invincible antipathy did the Monk regard the gay and thoughtless Ida, who had sometimes indulged her mirth at his expence, and whom he was determined to expel from her uncle’s heart, whatever trouble it might cost him.
Elizabeth by this time had no secrets for Ida. She informed her, that her parents had promised her hand to a powerful nobleman, and had ordered her in the most peremptory manner to prepare for the reception of her future husband, without even condescending to inform her of his name or situation. However, she was in truth little curious respecting him, for her heart was already bestowed upon another.
—“Yes!” said she to Ida, “I love Count Henry of Montfort, and have every reason to believe, that I am beloved in return most sincerely. Be this unknown bridegroom whom he may, he will find himself only an object of aversion in the eyes of Elizabeth of March.”—
Ida, judging by her own attachment to the deceased Erwin, agreed, that to banish from the heart the image of an adored lover was quite impossible: and Elizabeth was so well-pleased with her friend’s mode of reasoning, that she embraced her with redoubled affection. Ida advised her by no means to give up Count Henry; and Elizabeth on the other hand promised solemnly to follow that advice, which was so perfectly in unison with her own inclinations.
—“I am grieved to think,” said Elizabeth, “that probably in future we shall be suffered to meet but seldom! I have already received some hints, that my parents suspect you of not giving me such counsels, as they could wish; and yet in the present situation of my affairs it is so necessary for me to possess some feeling heart, to whom I can apply for sympathy and advice!—However, we shall still be able to correspond privately; and those communications may be made in writing, which the enemies of our friendship forbid us to impart in conversation.”—