—“And how strange,” rejoined Constantia, “that they should misunderstand your character so completely, as to believe you capable of such perfidy! And how cruel of them to insult your misfortunes by such an unfeeling taunting letter!”—
With such inquiries did they torture themselves during a whole tedious day; and they endeavoured in vain to discover, what part of Ida’s conduct could have authorised a man, who had once shown her so much benevolence, to view her on a sudden in a light so perfectly odious. It appeared too from this letter, that Count Frederick’s ill opinion of her was also the opinion of the world; and what had she done to deserve this universal ill opinion?—The Sisters were not aware, that a prejudice once conceived gains strength with every minute, and presses into its services the most insignificant occurrences: till the supposed offence from a molehill is swelled into a mountain, and shade added to shade gradually makes the detested object appear in colours sufficiently black, to justify its being made the object of detestation.
No mention had been made of Constantia in Count Oswald’s letter, because on the one hand her gentle inoffensive manners had prevented her having any enemies; and on the other hand, her supposed participation in her sister’s plans prevented the parties concerned from being her friends.—It appeared, that after quitting the Castle of March on the memorable day of Elizabeth’s intended wedding she had not thought proper to return to her convent. She had been way-laid by those robbers, who (as it was now believed) were at that very time in confederacy with her sister. No one doubted, that the free-booters had acted under Ida’s directions, and with Constantia’s concurrence; that the latter was totally under the influence of the former; and that if the one sister was not quite so deserving of censure as the other, she was at least equally unworthy of protection. It was concluded, that she was at that moment Ida’s companion; and it was agreed by all, that the most proper mode of treating her, was not to bestow on her even the slightest notice.
When the bitterness of the first shock was over, the Sisters found, that they had no reason to consider their situation as at all altered for the worse by the perusal of this insulting letter. It had not been in their contemplation to effect a reconciliation with the Count of Torrenburg; after so much as they had suffered, they no longer indulged a wish for any thing except retirement and repose. Ida’s resentment against her lover, for having offered his hand to Elizabeth, was not yet appeased: and after the injurious suspicions, to which her conduct at the Castle of March had (as she learned from Count Oswald’s letter) given rise, she thought it highly incumbent on her to make no inquiries respecting him. She accordingly resolved to verify the remainder of her sister’s fortunate vision, and re-assume the name of Rosanna Tell.—Constantia for a while refused to follow her example, and declared her determination of hiding herself for ever from the world in the Convent of Engelberg: but Ida besought her, with so much earnestness and with so many tears, “not to deprive her of the society of the only person, who still loved her, and whom she still dared to love,” that Constantia was compelled however reluctantly to give way.
A ring of some value, which Ida wore on the day, which made her a captive, and of which Randolf’s respect had prevented his depriving her, purchased a small hut and garden, in which the Countesses of Werdenberg were but too happy to obtain a shelter. Here then they remained in tranquil obscurity, unknowing and unknown: till the decease of the Count of Torrenburg and its consequences compelled them once more to take a part in the world, and again become acquainted with its splendours, and its cares.
By the will of Count Frederick, the whole of his domains descended to his wife; the Damsels of Werdenberg were disinherited, nor was this sufficient. A clause of the most disgraceful import declared the Count’s reasons for renouncing them, and thus held them up to the world as proper marks for the finger of contempt. It seems, that there still existed a younger branch of the House of Werdenberg, but with whose members the Sisters had never held any intercourse. The ignominious clause in Count Frederick’s will greatly offended the pride of these high-born noblemen. That any persons belonging to their family should deserve to be mentioned upon record in such opprobrious terms, appeared to them the most intolerable of all offences; and they vowed never to rest, till they had compelled the delinquents to renounce their title to a name, which (till they assumed it) had never been stained with disgrace.—They agitated this business with so much effect, that at length an act was obtained from the Emperor, enjoining two Damsels calling themselves by the names of Ida and Constantia, Countesses of Werdenberg, to lay aside those titles, as having forfeited them by their disgraceful conduct, even supposing that they really possest by birth a right to bear them; a fact, of which, the act professed to doubt the veracity.—It also forbade the reception of the said Damsels into any religious community, except such as were specified by name, and which were those only, whose institution (as was universally known) permitted the acceptance of persons of dissolute characters for the laudable purpose of reformation.
The Lords of Werdenberg were so diligent in making this act public, that it even reached the obscure valley, in which the Sisters had sheltered themselves under borrowed names. Little as they valued the pride of birth, and the empty boast of high-sounding title, the disgrace thrown upon them by this so public act was too insulting to be endured even by their humility. It was absolutely necessary, that some steps should be taken to vindicate themselves from such undeserved aspersions. Accordingly without loss of time they addrest letters to the Abbess of Zurich and to their guardians, Abbot Conrad, and the good Bishop of Coira. They disclosed the place of their concealment, asserted the gross injustice of the Emperor’s act, and avowed their willingness to lay every particular respecting themselves or their conduct before either of their guardians, or the respected Abbess.
Till this period they had neglected to apply to these firm friends; because they felt a total indifference to the station, which they had lost; considered the pleasures of the great world as withdrawn from them for ever; and only wished to pass the remainder of their lives in tranquillity and oblivion. Their letters communicated the greatest joy to those, to whom they were addrest; and Abbot Conrad lost not a moment in hastening to comfort the poor afflicted ones, and to assure them of his unabated regard and anxiety for their welfare.
It was no difficult task for the Sisters to convince this partial friend of their innocence. He insisted upon the necessity of their returning to the world, and Constantia consented to quit her solitude: but Ida was resolute never again to resume her proper station, till her honour and reputation were re-established in their full purity and with undiminished lustre.
And how is this to be effected? Oh! Elizabeth, it is you alone, who can answer that question. You have seen, how these unjustly persecuted Girls have been deprived of every thing, of their inheritance, of their fair fame, of the very name, to which their birth entitled them: you have seen their innocence and your own error. Your generosity, your love of justice will tell you, what you ought to do: to those noble sentiments, to your own noble self, I dare trust my cause without a single terror.—