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.