—“There is no mention made of _me_!” said she,—“no more, than if I were no longer in existence!—Well! well! it is better to be quite forgotten, than to be so remembered!”— —“How could they guess,” exclaimed Ida, “that _I_ was the writer of that letter?—a letter, which He, who sees the heart, can witness for me, I wrote out of pure good will to my unkind uncle.”— —“And how strange,” rejoined Constantia, “that they should misunderstand your character so completely, as to believe you capable of such perfidy! And how cruel of them to insult your misfortunes by such an unfeeling taunting letter!”— With such inquiries did they torture themselves during a whole tedious day; and they endeavoured in vain to discover, what part of Ida’s conduct could have authorised a man, who had once shown her so much benevolence, to view her on a sudden in a light so perfectly odious. It appeared too from this letter, that Count Frederick’s ill opinion of her was also the opinion of the world; and what had she done to deserve this universal ill opinion?—The Sisters were not aware, that a prejudice once conceived gains strength with every minute, and presses into its services the most insignificant occurrences: till the supposed offence from a molehill is swelled into a mountain, and shade added to shade gradually makes the detested object appear in colours sufficiently black, to _justify_ its being made the object of detestation. No mention had been made of Constantia in Count Oswald’s letter, because on the one hand her gentle inoffensive manners had prevented her having any enemies; and on the other hand, her supposed participation in her sister’s plans prevented the parties concerned from being her friends.—It appeared, that after quitting the Castle of March on the memorable day of Elizabeth’s intended wedding she had not thought proper to return to her convent. She had been way-laid by those robbers, who (as it was now believed) were at that very time in confederacy with her sister. No one doubted, that the free-booters had acted under Ida’s directions, and with Constantia’s concurrence; that the latter was totally under the influence of the former; and that if the one sister was not quite so deserving of censure as the other, she was at least equally unworthy of protection. It was concluded, that she was at that moment Ida’s companion; and it was agreed by all, that the most proper mode of treating her, was not to bestow on her even the slightest notice.