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that she was asleep, he shook her somewhat rudely in they were returning very leisurely to the village, but order to wake her. Instantly she fell down into a deep how extreme was their surprise on suddenly meeting ditch, Kibitz having taken care to place her in a ticklish him, not only quite safe and sound, but driving a fine situation; and he, being on the watch, now rushed out flock of sheep! upon the fellow, exclaiming that he had killed his wife, “ Is it possible, Kibitz, that it is you ?" exclaimed and protesting that he would accuse all of them of mur- they altogether, concealing their vexation as well as der. The lady alarmed at the accident, and the unplea- they could. sant circumstances in which she might be involved, “ Aye, even so my kind and worthy neighbours. I offered, by way of pacifying him, to give all the money perceive your astonishment; you are doubtless much she had about her, and also a fine horse, upon which a surprised to see these sheep, but I will explain the groom was mounted. Kibitz protested that he had lost whole business. You noticed the white foaming spray the best wife in the world, yet he was far from bearing when you plunged me into the water? Now you must malice, seeing that the lady was heartily sorry for what understand that there is a little enchantment in the case, had happened, and would therefore comply with her re- for-thanks to the violence with which you soused me quest, out of pure good nature. So filling his pockets, , in, the cask broke, and on my catching at the foam, it and mounting on his steed, Kibitz set off home, well turned to sheep, and very fine sheep they are--many pleased with his own prudence and ingenuity.
thanks, therefore, to you; and to prove to you my graAs he passed through the village, every one looked titude, I would advise you, one and all, to enrich yourout to see who it should be was mounted on so fine a selves in the same manner.” horse ; but how great was their astonishment at percei- No sooner had they heard this, than each determined ving that it was Kibitz, whom they thought they had forth with to make the experiment, after having before fairly killed ! But though at first somewhat alarmed, them such a convincing proof of its success. Away, conceiving it to be his spirit, on finding that it was therefore, they scampered back to the water; the forereally himself, they determined to get rid of him at all most jumped in at once, the others directly after him; events; and in order to do so the more effectually, seized but although they made foam and froth enough with hold of him, and shut him up in a large cask, in which their plunging about, no sheep appeared; on the conthey resolved to throw him into the sea. All now seemed trary they buffeted about in the water at such a rate that to be over with poor Kibitz : his good fortune appeared they were all drowned. Thus did Kibitz safely rid quite at an end : chance and good luck, however, often himselfofall his envious neighbours at once, and thereby effects escapes that prudence cannot contrive. The stars render himself master of the whole village. had decreed that Kibitz should be prosperous.
It so chanced that in their way to the sea they passed by an alehouse, and considering that Kibitz could har.
WHAT WAS OUR PARTING? dly run away while imprisoned in the cask, they left it it standing in the road, while they went in to refresh
What was our parting ?-one wild kiss,
How wild I may not say, themselves with a draught. No sooner did Kibitz find
One long and breathless clasp, and then himself alone than he began to consider how he might
As life were past away. best avail of those few precious moments, in order to
We parted, -I to weep o'er all regain his freedom. At almost the very same instant
My young heart's great excess he heard a flock of sheep pass by; upon which he began
Of passion, you to dream your love to cry out, “ I will not be chosen burgomaster. I
Into forgetfulness. determined not to be a burgomaster.” The shepherd,
What has our absence been ? a long astonished at his exclamation, went up to the cask and
And dreary while to me; questioned him as to the cause of his being there,
And must I feel- I dare not ask
What it has been to thee ? “Friend," replied Kibitz, “according to an ancient and singular custom of our town, whoever, is chosen burgo
How shall we meet on either side, master is borne in procession by the inhabitants of our
With heart so light as thine ? town, in this cask. I am appointed to this honour; but
On yours it may be fond again,
It will be cold op mine! am by no means ambitious of it." « How!” exclaimed
L. E. L. the shepherd with astonishment, "are you in earnest, when you say that you do not wish for the honour ? I
A STORY OF THE OLD TIME IN ITALY. would then that it were some other person's good luck to be chosen burgomaster.” “Well, then, my honest fellow, do but let me out of this cask, and take my place I am the daughter of noble parents, whom I will as quickly as you please.” This was no sooner said than not name,—for they should rest undisgraced in their done: and Kibitz being extricated himself, enclosed the tombs,— who left me sole heir of a large estate in the ambitious clown in his new shell, in which he was to be most fertile fields of Italy. I had fair and stately hatched into a burgomaster; then thinking that the halls, vassals for service in court or field, ladies for poor sheep would be at a loss for want of a master, or if attendance, and every thing needful or unneedful with left there might fall into worse hands than is own, he which human pride can be pampered, and honour or determined at once to drive them home.
humour desire or deserye. Mistress of these enviable On returning from the tavern, the boors began to roll possessions, I had many princely suitors, who met the cask on again, in spite of the cries of the unfortu- with such honourable entertainment as their many nate shepherd; and, at length, fairly plunged in into pleasant qualities merited. But there was one never the water,
seen among those flattering suitors, who was a thriving Satisfied that they had now got for ever rid of Kibitz, wooer with my heart, though he had never worshipped
at its shrine; and might have had that woman's toy as a gift which hë was either too humble or too proud to ask.
This was the noble gentleman called Guido de Medicis, the owner of a poor estate, touching upon the wider skirts of mine. He was of an ancient race of poets, painters, sculptors, legislators, and members of all the intellect of Italy—that proud land, where the hand of humble genius is of more nobility than the entire body of merely honourable birth. But he of whom I write is now cold in a grave only vaster than his grand capacity, the earth-embracing sea; and could these miserable aud shameful tears, which fall at the recollection of the wrong which I have done him, outwater that sea, they would not enough mourn him who is the drowned hope and pride of my dear father-land: vainly, therefore, do I weep a sin which tears may never wash away, nor my life or death atone for to Heaven and my country.
I have said that though poor, he had that nobility which is more noble than rank-independence; but though seemingly proud, he was really humble: his humility shrank only from the proffered hands and the open palaces of princes, not because he was unworthy of them, but because he would not accept the uncertain honours of the present, when he might enjoy uncondi. tional honours in the future. I bade him to my vanities and sating pleasures; but, with a humbleness which was more gratifying to me than the proudest acknow. ledgments of more princely men, he would ever refuse, and this with so winning a grace, that I was happier to be refused of him than accepted of the highest of Italy. His severe studies, and his patriotic endeavours for the welfare of his country, were the first wishes of his noble nature: these were excuses which I, who desired his future glory, could not be adder-deaf unto ; and I was, therefore, more pleased at his absence from the vain parade of pride and the worthless revel of pleasure, than at his presence, if it must have been bought with precious hours, which are few and numbered here, that we may use them only as purchasers of immortality hereafter. But, though ahsent from my court, he was ever present to my mind, where, whichever
I looked, in hall or bower, at the banquet or in the dance, whatever I saw that was noble or graceful, seemed only like so many faint resemblances and dim recognitions of him.
This admiration could not long exist without other pulses stirring in my heart. Jealousy, and doubt, and fears of what might happen as impediments between me and him racked me with painful anticipations. It was vecessary to my happiness that I should draw him nearer, and ensure him mine; but how was this to be brought about with no loss of modesty, and that selfrespect which even virtue, in her purest intentions, may not leave to the mercy of calumny, and the accidents of chance? I could not, from a maidenly shame, confess that I loved him: I deemed that the difference between our fortunes alone separated us; and resolved, if it might be done, to remove his poverty; and went about it with that delicacy which only a heart that loves can devise. He was already eminent throughout Italy for his sculpture, to engage him to adorn my palace with the creations of his chisel would place him more frequently befor my eyes, and, by enriching him, make his fortune more equal to my own. I resolved, there
fore, to place a large sum in his hands, to purchase such works as his genius had already created to be immortal, and all that it might for some time create. Sending a careful messenger before, announcing that I set out with a small retinue of noble friends to his little villa, He met me at the door; and, with the grace of genius, surrendered the heirs of his fame to my wish with as much modest indifference to their value, as if they had been but the toys of an idle taste. But for the gold and jewels which I had sent him, rather as presents than a consideration for his productions, which no price could purchase, he would have none of them: his fortune, he insisted, was enough for all his wants; and it was more than enough for him if his poor works were thought worthy of the honour I intended them. Stil I pressed these presents on him, and still he refused; when, finding that he would not by my hands be lifted level with myself in riches, I resolved at least to make myself as poor as him; and determined on founding a school for the arts in Florence, and on endowing it with more than the sum he had so resolutely yet modestly refused. I made my intention public, and invited the artists of Italy to the work, not doubting, meanwhile, that this poor munificence would find favour in his
eyes. He praised my devotion to the true glory of his country, and for a time I was hopeful of success. But this pleasant dream was too soon dissipated, and, like a vapour before the sun, it vanished.
From some inquiries which I had made among his domestics, I learnt that his heart (which I had thought possible to be mine) was irrecoverably given to the fair Bianca, daughter of Baptista Buonaventi, an old merchant of Florence; and that, in a few days, he was to set out for Syracuse to claim her hand in fulfilment of a solemn compact, made when passing his noviciate in that city. This intelligence came like death upon my heart; and, for many days, I held myself averse from the gay company and the old courtesies of my house. My noble friends saw my spirit to be sick, and strove to come at its disease; but I had already formed my resolution, rather than confess my weakness, to die of an undiscovered grief, and, since my malady was hopeless, that it should be also voiceless. I preserved that strict silence which is alone the security of secrecy. But, nevertheless, I wept my sorrows in the loneliness and darkness of the sleepless night; and this I did, till the paleness of my cheek was now so constant, instead of its wonted ruddiness, that it was scarcely noticed, either by the pitying kindly, or the prying curious. The Aatterer, the whisperer, and the surmiser, left me thenceforth to myself; and my palace, which had been the open hall of revel and riot, was now serious as the house of death. A moody quiet, and the silent abstractedness of a pining passion informed the silence, with a voice audible as the song of pleasure, or the hum of revelry, that joy had winged from those walls.
This violent change in the vivacity of my living did not escape the notice of Guido; but still his heart, which was too much occupied with his promised happiness, seemed no way conscious of the reason for this gloomy change. He inquired, with the kindness natural to him, of those he could not be informed by, why it was; and deeming it to be some mood of the mind, arising from the satiety of fortune, or from the pain of too much pleasure, he left the secret of my malady to those who might torture it by their probing, but
could not cure it by any skill which they possessed. chaster light: wherever they turned, all eyes were illu
The day and the hour was now arrived, when he was minated, and whatever she looked upon reflected back to set out on his way to old Baptista's; and as he pas- the beauty she turned upon it. Indeed, in all those sed under the lattice of my chamber, with a brave retinue fair and admirable qualities which make woman worthy of horsmen, chiefly his friends and kinsmen, with some of that paragon of earthly creatures--man,-she was few followers of his house, I could not, though my perfection. That Guido should love the gentle girl was eyes were dim with tears at the sight, refrain from no longer wonderful; for I even loved him the more witnessing his departure-although I felt that with that he did love her, so endearing a power hath beauty him went all that was dear to me in love, and pleasant in in its purity. life. As his horse curvetted restlessly under my As every hour developed her exceeding worth, and window, Guido looked up, and reining in the impatient disclosed to me some new loveliness which I had not steed, he lifted his cap from his head, and let loose to before discerned, the selfishness which would have made the winds his curled redundance of raven-shining hair: me the serpent to destroy the happiness of this second then gracefully bending in his saddle, and kissing his Eden, became poisonless and innocent-pride melted to hand to me, he passed on, followed by the blessings of pity, and pity to love; and I then religiously resolved the poor, to whom he was ever charitable, and by the to turn the bitterness of my passion into a sister's love admiration of the wealthy, who saw in him the hope for her. This resolution gave a happiness to my heart and example of his country. I watched his retiring which was new to it, and for a while I kept true to this as a Persian follows the sun's, till I could no longer holy purpose. descry any thing in the distance but the circling horizon; On the morrow following, they were to be married, and throwing myself on a couch, vainly endeavoured womanliness to manliness—beauty to love--grace to to turn the tempest of passion to patient prayers for genius. That morrow came-I attended the solemn his happiness.
rite-saw two hearts made earthly one and indivisible, Thus, by nourishing resignation to the will of and heavenly happy; and though my human heart shed Heaven, my soul gradually softened into composure, some natural tears, I wrestled with the dying strug. though sadness would often force her due of tears; and glings of passion with more than woman's fortitude. the blesssd Mother heard my prayers, and comforted Never was Florence, that gay city, happier than on me: and rest for awhile came back to my bed; but it that day; for never did so many hearts breathe their was not long that it abode there. Religion could not benedictions on two happy beings, or more fervently render me patient under suffering, nor administer invoke heaven for the welfare of the pride of Italy and comfort where there was no hope, Again I summoned the flower of Florence. the votaries of pleasure to my halls; but their hollow Guido, in this happy hour seemed as if rapt in a poet's vanities were now hateful, and the happiness they pre- extasy, and trod the earth as lightly as an alighting tended to bestow made me the more conscious of that angel, still up-buoyed by his open though motionless which I had lost. Weary of all that was once pleasant | wing. He seemed indeed too ethereal for an earthly to me, I resolved in an evil our to follow de Medi. being: whilst she, shrinking with a maidenly diffidence cis-preferring rather to see the happiness of one who from the admiring glances of the crowd, gave only now had rendered me most wretched, than not again to and then a look of fondness and pride at the lord of behold him. Summoning my chamberlain. I informed her choice; and so trod her gentle way from the church, him that sudden business demanded my presence in followed by the silent blessings of her friends, and the Florence; but that my departure must be secret and loud benedictions of old and young--of Florentine and my absence equally so.
foreigner. The gay procession then took horse, and, Ere the early lark had rustled wakefully in his nest passing out of the city, journeyed on through the I was in the saddle; and, followed by a trusty servant, countray, till it came to Campanelle, on the silvery shore hurried my way to the bright city, where I soon dis- of the Mediterranean, where lay anchored a goodly covered the house of old Baptista, and going up to it, I vessel, which was to waft the lovers, with some few was seen by the gentle Guido, who, coming out to meet friends, over sea to Syracuse. There, at a villa, pleasant me, hospitably welcomed me. I feigned that the business for a fair prospect, and rich for its productiveness, lying of my foundation for the arts had brought me thither, as it did among purple vineyards on a hill, at whose so that my intent was unsuspected, and I was once more foot ran the clear blue sea,—they were to wile away in sight of him who had robbed me of happiness never the summer hours of love. more to be restored.
Going safely on board the goodly ship, we bent sail Bianca Buonaventi was indeed a woman worthy of a before an easy breeze from the shore, and stood out for sculptor's love; for all those beauties which Art has the strait of Messina, through which we had to pass ere imitated from Nature were mingled in her. In her form the lovers could reach the happy nuptial haven. were blended all that I had till then thought the idea- It was evening ere we had cleared the pleasant shore lities of Grecian grace and Roman majesty: in motion, of Tuscany, and the sun as it set seemed Hushed with a she was stately as the swan; and swam the air, rather troubled red which threatened a storm; but as a storm than walked the earth. Her step was
in that sea is seldom fatal, the helmsman was commusic; her voice sweeter than the recollected music of a manded to stand still farther out, and so get room to dream. Her mind was a book of pure and wise thoughts, run before it, if it came on as severely as was dreaded. written surely by some hand divine. Her countenance Being put about, the gay bark danced over the waves such as angels wear—and they were made fair that man trimly and gallantly. And so for some time she sped ; might love Heaven, where all is beautiful. Love shone but suddenly the wind, from breathing regularly and in her eyes, but with so holy and placid a fire,—two gently as a sleeping child, held its breath like a heart sister stars burning in the winter heaven beam not a in terror, as if nature had suffered some sudden panse
into its continual activity: and the ship, who was cutting her rapid way through the surfy waves, with all her sails full to straining, dropped, as it were, out of the hands of the wind, and fell heavily, and almost without motion, into the lap of the sea, the white sails Alapping feebly and emptily in the recoiling air. A faint cry of surprise from the crew told too plainly that all was not well. Old Baptista and the master-mariner looked troublously at each other, and, blessing the vessel from harm, gave their orders secretly to the men, The clouds which had followed the sun in his descent looked fiery-red; whilst others, that seemed fixed by their own density, poured a darkness blacker than night upon our path. For an hour the breathless ship lay becalmed; but at last the wind stirred again, but weakly and howled among the cordage its shrill notes,-a preluding strain, prophesying too fatally the terrors of the tempest which was fast coming on; the sails flapped a moment, and then dropped loosely down, and babbled idly with the dying breeze.
The night was now dark to blindness, and there was no friendly light either of moon or star. The red clouds, that till then had caught the day's last lingering ray, gradually grew black as the pall of death ; and the wide horizon dark as the dome where Death holds his court. But soon the rapid lightning began to cut through the clouds, and made the darkness more dark, when it had flickered past, from its momentary excess of light. And now, in the distance, might be heard the surly threatening of the thunder. The wind began to blow gustily; the lightning flashed wider and more vividly; and once the ship seemed to tremble through its very frame under a thunder-burst, that sounded, to our startled ears, as if it had exploded against the cap of her creaking mast of pine. The lovers, who till then had heeded only each other, for a moment looked aghast, and muttered their prayers to St. Lucy, the virgin martyr of Syracuse, to waft them safely thither. The master was pale, as if he saw what must happen, before it had approached; the mariners crossed themselves, and committed their souls to the care of the holy saints. Again the lightning washed over the deck, as it were a whiter and more silvery water than earth contains, Aowing down in a flood from heaven; and no eye could bear to look on it longer than a moment. The helmsman dropped the wheel from his hands, that he might cover his face with them; the mariners turned away their faces from the blinding flashes, and the lovers hid their's in each other's bosom. The thunder now seemed to shake even the very heavens under which it rolled ; the riotous sea, as though awed by its tremendous power, hushed its appalling roar, and for a moment lay still and level as a lake between two wind-outshutting hills. In the next, it rolled with terrible rushes along its way, apparently without the compulsive power of the winds. But soon they came-feebly at first, but gathering a savage strength as they advanced.
The frail vessel, which had lain on the waters like a log, strained under their strong stirring, and creaked as if its ribs were severing. High wave followed high wave, as if they were indeed not waves, but mountains sliding off the face of the earth into the sea of spacewhen, rolling some way over the common level of the waters, they fell with a crushing noise into the bed of the sea. At length all the fury of the tempest seemed gathered; and again the ligh'ning glanced along the
deck and mingled with the washing waves, so that it was not easy to say whether the water was not lightning, or the lightning water, for they appeared one. The crazy vessel now dipped down, and now heaved to this side, and now to the other, like a toy in the hands of the mighty tempest. The master gave command, seeing that the sea broke with every rush over the ship, that those who feared the peril should go below ; hut not one of all the trembling throng stirred from where they held by the ship,—for all saw the worst, and none thought it possible to escape from it. Bianca clung in silent horror to her husband, who strove to comfort her, and bid her take heart. The old man covered his
grey head with the foldings of his cloak ; and, as he sat motionless and wordless, seemed the very resignation of despair. The crew were alternately on their knees, or starting up fresh-couraged to do the best they could for the groaning ship; but all availed not. The hand of man could not guide her through such a sea ; and the master would have quitted the helm, had it not been something to hold by, as the waves swept fiercely over the deck, carrying away whatever thing, animate or inanimate, was loose or infirm. The rudder having been some time powerless, it was not easy to know whither the vessel had driven She had drifted before the wind; but the master knew not whether we were off the shore of Sicily or of Calabria: it was certain that we were not far from land; for, in the pauses of the bellowing wind, we might sometimes hear the sound of a convent-bell rung by the good religious of that pious sanctuary, to warn the darkling mariner of his nearness to the rocks off the land. But when the wind got up again, it blew the guiding sound back upon the shore, and left us without hope or help. Whilst we were despairing of the worst, it came; for, on the sudden, the reeling ship struck violently on a reef of rocks, and a loud cry from the crew, succeeded by a louder shriek from the women, proclaimed, with horrid voice, that all was lost.
The shock of her striking was so powerful, that the fearful, who were clinging together to help one another, were torn from each other's grasp as by a stronger grasp, and thrown separately to different parts of the deck; and the storm at that moment gave a hideous howl, as if it triumphed in its strength The gallant Guido, though fung from his seat upon his face, fell with the fainting Bianca in bis arms; but getting instantly on his feet again, shouted with a resolute voice, that put courage even into the hearts of the despairing mariners, · Fear nothing ! God is the guide of the good; He will save us yet! And the master at that moment shouted too, but fearfully and shrilly, as if he shrieked, 'She is off again, unharmed! Fear not, fear not! our heavenly mother Mary, and the good saints, are about us !' Then all on board crossed themselves on brow and breast, and muttered inwardly their prayers to Heaven. it was true that she had endured but little hurt, and, with the recoiling rush of the waves, was thrown afloat again; but ere the master could leap to helm, to put her farther out, a strong sea came driving before the wind, which now blew as it would part the poles, and again fung her, as if she were no mightier than a sea-shell, upon the sharp rocks. She broke at the blow like parted bread, the stern-half of her huge bulk tumbling over into the sea, while the head of the vessel lay reeling on the rock. Then the shriek of dismay and death went
up from men that were never more to call on Heaven ; for many of the crew were crowded about the helm, and, when it parted, went down with her, never again to rise with life. The venerable Baptista, Guido, his fair wife, and my wretched self, still clung to the chains at the bow; but not long held we there, for a strong wave came mounting at our backs, and in a moment we were hurled with the halved vessel down from the reef into the gaping abyssmal depth it had left in the sea. Again the fragment mounted to the surface-sea, and we had all held to each other and to the ropes which were coiled round our bodies, save the feeble Bianca, who had sunk out of the grasp of her husband, but, being entangled in the coil of the ropes, was not swept into the sea. We might hear another wave coming with a rushing roar towards us, as it had determined we should be its prey ; when Guido, seeing, with the calmness of courage, that, if we awaited it, our escape was hopeless, cried out, • Father, take thou the care of the Lady Erminia, as I will of thy daughter, and let us at once leap beyond the reef into the sea, and struggle for the land.'
And now now shrink not as from the serpent-fiend, to hear me tell the story of that crime which has cursed me here, and may hereafter. After these words, he again cried out, ‘Bianca, my beloved, where art thou ?' The fatal love which had fed upon me like a fiame upon a living sacrifice, even in this awful hour burnt sensibly in my hateful lieart; and, prompted by that miserable passion, and the love of him and of life, some fiend ans. werd surely with my tongue, 'Here!'--and he caught at me as a desperate drowner doth a floating weed, and leaping into the sea, cried to the old man, · Follow me, father, follow !' But he heard him not; for I saw that he was dead, and had fallen on his swooned child, who, as we leaped into the sea, shrieked out, and audibly informed me that she still lived, though my struggling soul would fain have quieted its conscienee with the thought that she was dead, and so have palliated to itself, if it failed afterwards to Guido and to Heaven, its damnable deceit. Guido heard not her cry, or if he did, took it, in the stunning turbulence of the tempest's roar, for mine. For a long time he buffeted the waves with a giant's strength, and a courage that could not be weakened ; and still as he beat the wawes aside, or breasted them like a living rock, he cried, 'Be of good cheer, my Bianca, I shall save thee yet! And when I Heard him call on her name, my heart smote so fearfully within me, that, though I was sure of death if I had disclosed that I was Erminia, I thrice had nearly confessed the dreadful truth ; but my love of life, and cruel love of him, stifled my voice. 'Twice I saw, in the glaring flash of the lightning, that he gazed upon me, to see if I had life; for the fear of disclosure, and the peril of the waters, made me voiceless and strengthless, and I lay almost lifeless in his clasping arm, as he struck through the waves with the other. He looked on me again, but the waters had washed my long hair over my face, so that he knew me not; and still he clasped me to him tenderly, and beat his burdened way through the sea. Long time thus he contended resolutely with death, when, just as his strength was spent, and he had bade me commit my soul to Heaven, he descried lights not far before us, and faintly told me still to hope, for we were near. land. This nerved him anew, and he plied his way. lustily, till at length we touched the rocky
shore, where, summoning a desperate man's might, he clambered up the low craggy cliffs, and feeling the firm earth under him, dropped to the ground, from utter exhaustion. For some time I knew not what occurred, for safety then seemed more dreadful to me than the dangers I had passed through, and I swooned. When I recovered, I found Guido endeavouring to bring life back, by cherishing me in his bosom. And ever and anon he would call for help, as strongly as he might, to the distant fishermen's cottages, where he had first discerried the light which led him to the shore.
At length we descried a light approaching the spot where we lay, still on the ground, and could hear the loud halloo of the comers ; and after some time, guided by his continual cry, a fisherman came up with a torch. As it neared us, I shrank from it like a foul and guilty thing that loves darkness rather than day, but in vain; for Guido's anxious eye looked at last on my face as the light fell on it, when, uttering a dreadful shriek of dismay and despair, he dropped me from his arms, and, starting from the ground like one made instantly mad by some sudden stroke upon the brain, he rushed, stag. gering and strengthless, but wildly, to the cliff. I clung to him heavily, to prevent him from again leaping into the sea : but I dared not speak to him, save by feeble, inarticulate cries. He glanced at me a look which withered me, and shaking me like a serpent to the earth, with a terrible cry, Aung himself from the cliff into the sea. I beheld him beating his way back to the wreck, as the lightning momentarily flashed from the firmainent; and, at length, I saw him grasp at some white burden on the waters, and again turn for the shore, but suddenly his right arm ceased to strike out; and though I kept my breaking eyes fixed on the same spot, when the next lightning flashed I saw that he had sunk; when, crying to God in my despair, I fell on my face, and was insensible to all about me.
Within these peaceful and holy walls years have since passed over me. But the thought of that dreadful hour, and of the still more dreadful guilt which it brought upon my soul, is ever present to my mind. The images of Guido and his murdered bride rise between me and devotion. My wealth has been given to the pious uses of this convent, and my penance and prayers are proportioned to my great guilt. But the calming and restoring influence even of religion cannot wholly lull the troubled agony of a memory like mine. Still, in the trust of God and the holy saints, I look with joyful hope to the term of all human suffering :-Oh! if the intensity of earthly agony can extenuate and atone for earthly guilt —then even I may dare to look with confidence towards Heaven!