“The sons of the Count of Torrenburg are dead; the Count himself is a widower, but is not quite so far advanced in years as to make his contracting a second marriage highly improbable. Still you have much to expect from his known generosity of mind, and I cannot but flatter myself, that you may look forwards to more fortunate times! Oh! with what content could I lay my head down in my grave, were I but certain that this hope will soon be realized! But alas! every thing shows itself to me, as if still at a fearful distance! Every thing seems covered with a gloomy veil of clouds. Many and many a bitter sigh must you heave, many and many a painful step must you tread, ere you regain that station, whence you have been degraded by maternal obstinacy and superstitious prejudice.—Yet take courage, my children; an invisible hand still guides the steps of the innocent, and you will find a powerful friend and safe adviser in the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald.”— Here the old man concluded; his adopted daughters were silent, and wept.—All that they had heard, all the glorious prospects, which were just presented before them, were unable to overpower the melancholy conviction, that the hour was arrived, when they must close the eyes of that venerable man, who had for so many years cherished them with all the fondness of a father. In losing him, they foresaw too the loss of those simple pleasures, which had made their childhood glide away so gaily, and for which they feared to find the advantages of their new situation but a sorry and incomplete exchange. Tell visibly became weaker, that is, his body became so; but his mind preserved its strength unimpaired, and to the last moment of sensibility possest its gaiety and freedom. He had indeed got the better of that illness, which at first confined him to a sick couch, but he sank under the burthen of his years. His heart at length felt the arrow of death; though in truth that metaphor is here inapplicable, for he felt no wound, he endured no pain. His existence ended in a gradual peaceful slumber; the lamp of his life was extinguished gently and imperceptibly.