lars, parallel to the path by which Eugenio passed. He stoped in order to examine him with more attention, and perceived him turn towards a path which conducted him behind a mass of rocks. The fear of of loosing sight of him, engaged the Monk to follow him. With this view he took a more direct road, and arriv ed at the same moment with Eugenio in a deep valley, flank. ed on each side wi h steep rocks, that seemed to threaten destruction to the mortals rash The dismal sound of the Abbey bell soon drew him from. his lethargy; he heaved a sigh that seemed to proceed from the bottom of his soul, raised his eyes towards heaven, clasped his hands, and then struck his forehead in an agony of despair. He stared around him with a look betokening horror; and drawing a pistol from his pocket, exclaimed, in a low tone of voice, but sufficiently clear and distinct to be heard by the Monk"Oh my Virginia! my belov enough to penetrate that mys-ed Virginia! nothing shall now terions assylum of Nature. hinder my being united with you!" The Monk placed himself behind a tuft of shrubs; there he continued to observe all the motions of the unfortunate youth, whose bewildered looks, pale and disfigured countenance, and universal tremor, drawing the trigger. inspired him with the most lively interest in bis favour. I The good Monk cried aloud; and rushing towards Eugenio, seized his hand at the moment when he was in the act of "Who art thou?" said Eu. genio, with a voice expressive of despair. "Why would you retard a voyage which can aone unite me to HER for whom I lived? Have you not suffi Engenio for a few minutes walked with unsteady steps along the dreary spot to which his sorrows bad conducted Lim; then supporting himselfciently tormented me?-Have against one of the rocks, he shut his eyes, and remained motionless. The Monk would have imagined him lifeless, had not the convulsive motion of his eye-lids announced that be still existed. you not killed her? What more will seek her beckons me to come to her !--I promised to accompany her. I have waited for her, it is true; but I would not that she should wait for me; for you know what a misery it is to wait for those we love. Alas! who can describe it but those who have felt its pangs.". 66 'My son my dear son!" exclaimed the venerable Monk, moved to tears, "come with me; we will talk together of your Virginia." "Of My Virginia!" inter rupted Eugenio, with a loud v..ice. "My Virginia!" he repeated, with downcast looks; "do you know then that she is mine?-that she can belong to no other, notwithstanding the black veil with which she is covered, and the fatal coffin in which they have concealed her!" Eugenio heard the good old man without attending to what he said. He relapsed into the suffered to be conducted by him in silence, and without interruption. When he arriv ed at the monastery of Celes.. tins. he expressed no surprise at seeing himself surrounded by the Monks of the Order; and he suffered himself to be put to bed in the infirmary of the Convent, without the least effort on his part to prev、nt it. A violent fever, accompanied with the most dangerous symptoms, soon declared itself; but the wretched youth, after having long struggled with death, was restored to life, or rather to the misery of living. When he found himself in a state to contemplate the scene around him, he perceived at hs bed side the good Father Genaro, who had before given him such marks of his tender and affectionate solicitude "Sir," said that pious Monk, "we have taken the liberty of examining your papers during your illness, in order that we might inform your relations of the dangerous state in which you was; but we have found nothing which could furnish us with the information we desir.' ed." "I thank you, my Father," same state of stupefaction, and || said Eugenio, with a voice scarce dis inct, but I have no relation whose presence I desire, except," added he, Father Genaro, to whom an indulgent compassion for the weekness of his fellow-crea sighing, the Cordinal Capratures, an enlightened piety, and particularly an intimate knowledge of the human heart, had afforded, perhaps in a de gree superior to any other, the means of combining and fore seeing, the crisis of a violent grief, of observing all its shades and modifications, of discovering, even in its incoherences, the sensation from which it had sprung, and by a certain and infallible series of obser ra, my uncle, to whom I intend to write as soon as I shall have recovered sufficient strength." Father Genaro, more than ever touched with compassion for tee sufferings of Eugenio, and at the same time terrified at observing, in the unhappy youth, the same bewildered look that had struck his atten tion the first moment he beheld him, would not quit him for an instant: and endeavour-vation, of exploring the secret ed, by the most affectionate discourses, and solicitous atten tions, to assuage that grief which seemed to undermine, to its very scource, the vital existance of him who was the victim of it. Not a single tear had moist ened the pailid cheeks of Eu genio. He listened in silence to the consoling words of Fa ther Genaro, nor expressed a sign of emotion even when he pronounced the loved name of Virginia. He He pa sed whole days, absorded in a profound reverse, which never left him but to give place to violent convulsions. At those mo. ments four men were scarce sufficient to confine him to his bed.. workings of nature, studied in silence every emetion of Eugenio." My son," said he one day, "hitherto I have pitied your sorrows. I have experienced an addition of grief at the idea that you have still a long period of suffering to endure; for you have scarce entered upon the career of life, and there is every prospect that your abode on this stage of misery will be prolonged for many years. But I per ceive that you are on the point of sinking under the most dreadful blow with which Providence can afflict you." Eugenio started, and looked stedfastly at Father Genaro; and for the first time cince the fatal moment when he heard of the death of Virginia, an emotion, something like joy, sparkled in his eyes. "Yes," continued Father Genaro, "it appears to me impossible that death should not soon put a period to the cruel grief which consumes you. But, my son," added the respectable and pious Monk, "have you thought of the eter nity that awaits you? Do you think you are worthy to partake in that heavenly reward which doubtless your Virginia now enjoys? It is by abandoning yourself, without an effort, to the effects of a guilty despair, that you flatter your self with the hope of hereafter joining her who is the object of your regret?" Eugenio heaved a deep sigh, pressed the hands of Father Genaro, and appeared extremely agitated. ed at last all the effect he de sired. Tears flowed from the eyes of Eugenio. exclamations and complaints succeeded this first emotion of his despair."Ah! tell me repeat to me that I shall again be united to her! My friend, my worthy friend how anxious is my soul to hear again those consoling words which you have just utter-. ed!" Father Genaro pressed him in his arms, and mingled his tears with his; talked of his Virginia, and never failed, on every occasion, to describe ins glowing colours. the ineffable tranquility imparted to a heart rent with grief by the consola tions of religion. The amiable and sensible soul of Eugenio soon yielded to the desire he had of being constantly with his respectable friend, of following his counsels, and submitting to his mild exhortations. His despair was succeeded by the most fervent piety; and it was by encourag The worthy Monk took advantage of the moment, in order to probe to the quick the bleeding wound in the heart of Eugenio. He spoke to himing the desire he felt of again of Virginia, wept with him at the loss he had sustained, and drew so affecting and faithful a picture of the sentiments that oppressed the spirit of the unhappy youth, that he produc. beholding his beloved Virgi.. nia, that he daily prepared him. self to appear before the throne of the Eternal. Time at length calmed the excess of his grief; but a pro found sadness, a constant pale. ness that overspread his countenance, announced Virginia was ever present to his houghts. He spoke of her every day to Father Genaro. Every day he walked beneath the walls of the Abbey of San Cipriano, and stopped before the door where Virginia was to have met him. He would contemplate it for whole hours, and then return to the Convent with his eyes bathed in tears. Disgusted at a world which was now become insupportable to him, and wishing to conseerate his days wholly to meditation and retirement, he 25sumed the religious habit in the Monastery of Celestins. Having communicated his resolution to the Cardinal Capro ra, he entreated him to inform his mother, as he felt himself unable to write to her directly. He then disposed of all his property in favour of the Con vent where he intended to pass the remainder of his days, with the exception of Torre Vecchia, which he left to Rosalia Vizzani ; and a consider More than ten years elapsed, during which he constantly refused all the off rs of the Cardinal Caprara, who was anxious to see him invested with the first dignities of the Church, When he pronounced the vows of religious seclusion, he had assumed the name of Carlo. It was that of his uncle; and he experienced a secret satis faction in bearing it. That name seemed to recal to him the virtues and distinguished merit of the respec able and worthy man who had ever shewn him marks of the sincerest tender ness. He also preserved an unfeign. edffection towards Rosalia, though she was the innocent cause of his misfortune; and he experienced an emotion of joy when that amiable and interresting girl, free by the death of her father to dispose of her hand, wrote him word that she had rewarded the constancy of the Marquis Justiniani by be coming his bride. Count Vizzanni, enraged at finding how much he had deceived himself in the idea that able farm he gave to the faith-Eugenio, after having lost all ful Laurina, as a recompence for the tender attachment she had always expressed towards Virginia. hopes of obtaining Virginia, would consent to become the husband, of Rosalia-disappointed in the prospect of being |