The annals of the ladies of Sargans are in the possession of the Abbess of Zurich, whose convent you at present inhabit. I can myself do no more than furnish you with a short supplement to this family history, and which I will readily transmit to you, whenever you think proper to renew a correspondence, which ceases for the present with this letter. _Elizabeth to Count Oswald of March._ I have offended our good old Conrad: the correspondence which I have kept up for so many years with the faithful instructor of my childhood is at length laid aside; and many a vacant hour as this instructive intercourse has beguiled, I yet must confess, I am not sorry that it has ceased for the present. Conrad latterly began to press me too hard upon a subject, on which (in compliance, dear brother, with your advice) I am determined not to come to any hasty determination. Ah! the point would have been determined long ago, had I not been compelled to hesitate by your friendly representations and the weakness of my own heart! And yet, dear Oswald, to confess the truth, the latter had more influence with me than the former. Paint to me in as brilliant colours as you chuse the advantage of being sovereign lady of such an extensive territory; ah! can the empty pride of governing a turbulent ungrateful people restore to me the ruined tranquillity of my heart? My wealth and power were even beyond my wishes, unaided by the liberal bequest of my dear, my partial husband; and long ago should Constantia have enjoyed those rights to which (so at least they say) her claim is undoubted, were it not that Ida must necessarily have shared in the good-fortune of her sister; Ida, who stole from me the heart of Montfort! Ida, who trampled on the fondest wishes of my soul! No! that thought is not to be endured! The wanton arts of that perfidious girl forced me from the bosom of my Henry into the aged arms of the Count of Torrenburg: now then let her enjoy the fruits of her good deed! Gratitude taught me to love Frederick, and to forget Henry; but to reward these traitors for having so successfully betrayed me; to enrich them with all that has been bestowed on me by the last will of the excellent possessor ... this is a pitch of heroic virtue, of which I can be capable but in a very few moments of romantic enthusiasm. In one of those moments, _you_, dear Oswald, came to my assistance, rouzed me from my dream of heroism, dissipated the vapours which bewildered my senses, and now you may rest secure that I shall make no rash resolutions.