him to cover his secret torments and insidious purposes
beneath a veil of benevolence and cheerfulness. "Alas!" said I, loud
enough for him to hear me, "here is a monument of ruin. Despair and
mischievous passions are too deeply rooted in this heart for me to tear
them away."

These expressions did not escape his notice. He turned once more and
cast sullen looks upon me. There was somewhat in his eyes that made me
shudder. They denoted that his reverie was not that of grief, but of
madness. I continued, in a less steadfast voice than before:--

"Unhappy Clemenza! I have performed thy message. I have visited him that
is sick and in prison. Thou hadst cause for anguish and terror, even
greater cause than thou imaginedst. Would to God that thou wouldst be
contented with the report which I shall make; that thy misguided
tenderness would consent to leave him to his destiny, would suffer him
to die alone; but that is a forbearance which no eloquence that I
possess will induce thee to practise. Thou must come, and witness for
thyself."

In speaking thus, I was far from foreseeing the effects which would be
produced on the mind of Welbeck. I was far from intending to instil into
him a belief that Clemenza was near at hand, and was preparing to enter
his apartment; yet no other images but these would, perhaps, have roused
him from his lethargy, and awakened that attention which I wished to
awaken. He started up, and gazed fearfully at the door.

"What!" he cried. "What! Is she here? Ye powers, that have scattered
woes in my path, spare me the sight of her! But from this agony I will
rescue myself. The moment she appears I will pluck out these eyes and
dash them at her feet."

So saying, he gazed with augmented eagerness upon the door. His hands
were lifted to his head, as if ready to execute his frantic purpose. I
seized his arm and besought him to lay aside his terror, for that
Clemenza was far distant. She had no intention, and besides was unable,
to visit him.

"Then I am respited. I breathe again. No; keep her from a prison. Drag
her to the wheel or to the scaffold; mangle her with stripes; torture
her with famine; strangle her child before her face, and cast it to the
hungry dogs that are howling at the gate; but--keep her from a prison.
Never let her enter these doors." There he stopped; his eyes being fixed
on the floor, and his thoughts once more buried in reverie. I
resumed:--

"She is occupied with other grie