The fair Ida’s well-conceived letter arrived at the very time, which she intended; that is, when it was too late to be of any use. First to invent schemes of treachery, and then when they fail, to assume the part of a warning friend against those very schemes, was certainly one of the most dexterous artifices, that ever was produced by female ingenuity! Unfortunately, there are some people, who are not deceived even by artifices so dexterous. The Count of Torrenburg has been rescued from the Banditti, not by the fair Ida’s warning _after_ the event had taken place, but by the courage and affection of an angel, whose name was once Elizabeth of March; whose name would have been Elizabeth of Montfort, had it not been for the fair Ida’s coquetry; and whose name is now Elizabeth of Torrenburg, in spite of all the pains, which the fair Ida gave herself to prevent her ever bearing that illustrious title. Yes! Elizabeth is Countess of Torrenburg: I protest, I cannot but pity the poor damsel Ida for so severe a disappointment, as this union must give to her views upon Count Frederick’s inheritance. Besides the loss of her benefactor’s good opinion, she has also to regret that of her lover the robber Randolf, who inhabits one of the Count’s dungeons; so that all her hopes in that quarter are completely annihilated. It seems too, that she has not even contrived to secure the light and worthless heart of Henry of Montfort, who (probably grown already weary of her) has returned to his uncle’s residence; as report says, a sincere penitent for having suffered himself to lose such a treasure as the hand and heart of Elizabeth through the artifices of a perfidious coquette. Probably by this time the fair Ida has found out, that this maxim contains more truth than she supposed; viz. “that crooked paths lead to precipices.” Randolf, the fair Ida’s lover, is a prisoner; Henry of Montfort, the fair Ida’s dupe, has recovered his senses; Gero and Hilarius, the fair Ida’s friends, are both dead; and Count Frederick, the fair Ida’s intended victim, is aware, that Hilarius is not the only snake, whom he has warmed in his bosom. Count Frederick of Torrenburg sends the fair Ida his best wishes for her speedy repentance, and ventures to suggest, that a convent will be in future her fittest residence.—He begs however, that this may only be considered as his _advice_; since looking upon her no longer as his relation, he has no longer any right to give her a command. At all events, he begs, that whether she takes that advice or not, she will not think it necessary to inform him of her proceedings, since he has now but one wish on earth respecting her; to hear of her no more! * * * * * Ida’s tears streamed plentifully, while she read these cutting lines. She gave the letter in silence to Constantia, who felt the unmerited reproaches no less acutely than her sister. A long pause ensued, which at length was broken by Constantia.