Ida was delighted to find, that her advice had been carried into execution with so much success: she only feared, lest the lovers should be overtaken by their pursuers, among whom she grieved to hear her uncle numbered; she was still ignorant, how deeply he was interested in this affair, and concluded that he was actuated to take a part in it by the friendship, which had so long subsisted between himself and the old Count of March. Her prayers and wishes were half accomplished, half rejected. The lovers were overtaken: but Count Oswald of March was fondly attached to his sister; some well-disposed persons kindly interfered; Count Frederick voluntarily resigned his pretensions; and it was finally resolved, that the errors of love should be pardoned, and the fugitives united in a public and customary manner. In truth, no one could deny, that Henry was a much more suitable partner for the blooming Elizabeth, than her destined bridegroom, the age-stricken Count of Torrenburg. Ida was not long without hearing from her friend: this letter, (the last which she ever received from Elizabeth,) induced her to take a step, which filled up the measure of her mischances, and not only deprived her of the favour of her deceived uncle, but totally ruined her in the general opinion. —“Ida! dear Ida! authoress of all my present happiness! How wise was your advice! How perfectly has it succeeded! Yet a few days, and I shall become the wife of Henry. Still I shall feel my pleasure incomplete, unless I can thank you for it with an embrace on my bridal-day. Come then, my friend! come to place the garland on my brow[5], and rejoice in the work of your prudence! You will find your sister with me: it was easy for her to obtain a dispensation from her Abbess. I rejoice, that your uncle is now in a distant part of the country, as in the present moment you would certainly have been refused permission to come to me. As it is, resolve to brave the hazard of a few frowns at his return; he will soon forget his displeasure at your witnessing my nuptials, being totally ignorant of every thing which might seriously make him offended with you, and which (you may be assured) shall never come to his knowledge.—But though concealed from all others, the friendly part which you have acted in this business, shall never be forgotten by the grateful heart of your Elizabeth. Footnote 5: This alludes to a custom still preserved in many parts of Germany: the bride wears a myrtle-wreath during the nuptial-ceremony, and it is usual for her on the day after her marriage to present this wreath to that female friend, to whom she is most attached.