ollowed in
swift succession.

Oh! had an angel from paradise whispered to me to act thus! But now,
what would be the innocent Juliet's fate? Would God permit the foul
union--or, some prodigy destroying it, link the dishonored name of
Carega with the worst of crimes? To-morrow, at dawn, they were to be
married: there was but one way to prevent this--to meet mine enemy, and
to enforce the ratification of our agreement. I felt that this could
only be done by a mortal struggle. I had no sword--if indeed my
distorted arms could wield a soldier's weapon--but I had a dagger, and
in that lay my every hope. There was no time for pondering or balancing
nicely the question: I might die in the attempt; but besides the burning
jealousy and despair of my own heart, honor, mere humanity, demanded
that I should fall rather than not destroy the machinations of the
fiend.

The guests departed--the lights began to disappear; it was evident that
the inhabitants of the villa were seeking repose. I hid myself among the
trees--the garden grew desert--the gates were closed--I wandered round
and came under a window--ah! well did I know the same!--a soft twilight
glimmered in the room--the curtains were half withdrawn. It was the
temple of innocence and beauty. Its magnificence was tempered, as it
were, by the slight disarrangements occasioned by its being dwelt in,
and all the objects scattered around displayed the taste of her who
hallowed it by her presence. I saw her enter with a quick light step--I
saw her approach the window--she drew back the curtain yet further, and
looked out into the night. Its breezy freshness played among her
ringlets, and wafted them from the transparent marble of her brow. She
clasped her hands, she raised her eyes to heaven. I heard her voice.
Guido! she softly murmured, Mine own Guido! and then, as if overcome by
the fulness of her own heart, she sank on her knees:--her upraised
eyes--her negligent but graceful attitude--the beaming thankfulness that
lighted up her face--oh, these are tame words! Heart of mine, thou
imagest ever, though thou canst not portray, the celestial beauty of
that child of light and love.

I heard a step--a quick firm step along the shady avenue. Soon I saw a
cavalier, richly dressed, young, and, methought, graceful to look on,
advance. I hid myself yet closer. The youth approached; he paused
beneath the window. She arose, and again looking out she saw him, and
said--I cannot, no, at