"And yet I love the face of night

I weep to see its shades depart,

Far ah! the morn, it dawns so bright

In mockery of my breaking heart."

The instrument dropped from her hand, and she stood motionless as a statue. The physician approached her, and gently laid hold of her arm, but she quickly disengaged herself, and looking playfully in the old man's face, exclaimed,

"Come hither, come hither, and dance with me ;

A purse of gold I'll give to thee,

And a silken cloak so white and fine,

My mother hath bleached in the cold moonshine."

The physician shook his head, and continued to watch her motions in silence. She passed her slender fingers slowly across her forehead, and continued gazing steadily at Alfred. “I dreamt last night that Julio was dead, but they will not let me follow him; and the nights are dark and lonely, and long-so very long. Hist! did you hear the tramping of horses? I thought I heard his voice even now."

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One of her attendants, in obedience to a signal from the physician, now advanced to persuade her to retire, but waving her arm impatiently, she stood gazing vacantly across the lake which washed the balcony outside. Perhaps he may come by the lake, as he once came before. We will watch to-night, Theresa; for Monday is our wedding day. Would you like to see my bride clothes, and my chaplet of roses, all fresh, and white as snow? Come, I will show you all, -come, come, come."

As she was about to leave the room, however, her eyes became fixed on the doorway. The expression of her features instantly changed, and her whole countenance beamed with joy. "Ha! truant," she exclaimed, "have you come at last? Alas, poor Julio, how pale he looks!—come then."

She darted forward as if she had beheld her lover at the door, and was about to throw herself into his arms. Before she reached the spot, however, she stopped suddenly, as if a ray of returning reason had shot through her wandering brain. The beloved form which her own

heated fancy had called up, vanished as suddenly. She pressed both her hands to her head, and the consciousness of her real situation recurring to her for a moment, she uttered a piercing shriek, and fell senseless on the floor.

Alfred flew to her assistance, but it was in vain that they attempted to revive her scattered senses. Violent convulsions quickly followed, with long deep sighs and involuntary tears, and she was borne insensible from the room by her attendants. The physician followed, after having informed Alfred that he feared she would not survive the night.

Resolved not to leave the castle before he ascertained her fate, he spent several hours in the deepest anxiety. At length he was relieved by the presence of her father. The old Count's altered appearance, and a silent pressure of the hand, told him that all was over, and he could not refrain from tears at the sad fate of so highly gifted and amiable a being. Her father bore the loss with a grief "not loud but deep,❞—that silent, brooding grief which, finding no vent in tears and scorning all complaints, preys in secret

on the heart, gradually weans it from all the enjoyments of life, and finally sends its victim to a premature grave.

After explaining the situation in which he was placed by the discovery and death of Manfredi, he bade farewell to his kind host; and travelling the whole of that night, reached the village of Novara early the next morning, where he again joined his countryman.

CHAPTER XV.

I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,

Need friends-subjected thus,

How can you say to me, I am a king!

RICH. II.

AFTER resting a few hours, they determined to make the best of their way to Genoa, where they might consider themselves safe beyond the reach of the ruler of Milan; and although Alfred had not enjoyed three hours' uninterrupted sleep for the last two days, and had moreover been in a state of feverish anxiety during all that time, yet the excitement of danger enabled him to resume his journey with alacrity; and his drooping spirits were kept up by the cheerful conversation of his lively companion.