all hopeful, anxious joy, eager to realize the ardent anticipations of imagination, sprung into the boat, waiting to convey her to land. In vain she looked among the crowd of assembled spectators-alas! the well-known form of her husband met not her eyes was never to meet them more! She heard the denunciation of her fate, she heard the confirmation of her widowhood. Temporary death succeeded: for hours, for days, for weeks, memory sickened with the weight of woe, and she lay, an unconscious, an uncomplaining sufferer. It was at the soul-harrowing moment, when Eusebia, standing in the boat, waved her white veil, as the last signal for compassion, that, actuated by despair, or perhaps by the desperate design of swimming to her rescue, the ill-fated frenzied partner of her life sprung from the side of the vessel: the flood closed over his head -he sank, to rise no more."

-

"But Eusebia," said the sympathizing Di Rinaldini.

"Alas,

"Alas, hapless friend!" resumed Isidore, heart-rived, she returned to her native province the world held forth no luresshe forswore it for ever. Though so young and so matchless in beauty, she took the— the-she formed the resolution of living for the memory of her husband, and the duties and piety beguiled the tediousness of time, and blunted the poignancy of sor

"Oh, no! not unhappy!" eagerly exclaimed the pilgrim; "for she is in Heaven. A stranger to the mortal influence of revenge, to the jarring passions of the soul, she pardoned the murderer of her peace; she prayed for the tyrant who bereft her life of every comfort, who doomed its close to regret and woe."

"Did she did she pray for the murderer?" falteringly demanded Di Rinaldini.

"Yes; Heaven knows she did," replied Isidore,

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Isidore," even in the last lingering moments of protracted life."

"Then is she a saint indeed!" sighed Huberto, as they passed over the drawbridge of the Castle.

CHAP.

CHAP. V.

He told him to compose his troubled heart;

*

He told him, that religion cur'd despair,

And soften'd every pang that pierc'd the soul.

ALZIRA,

"THE blessed Virgin has sent that beautiful youth to cheer us all," said Vannina, aş the introduction and reception of the pilgrim at Montranzo was freely discussed in the servants' hall: "What a mouth! what teeth! what a forehead! and what heavenly eyes!"

"'Tis a virgin's bequest truly," muttered Benevento: "By the mass! and I doubt not but he's turned your head already!" "Patience

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"Patience aid us!" retorted Vannina ; "can't we admire beauty without being in love? Why, boy, he is younger than your

self!"

"No matter," said the page; "he has a pretty face, and that is enough to catch the heart of a silly woman."

"And a pretty name too," rejoined Vannina-" Isidore !—there's music in the sound: and then he plays on the lute, and sings so sweetly, I vow I would walk a league barefooted, only to hear one of his love-ditties!"

"Doubtless," observed Cyril, "he is some magician in disguise, or some knighterrant in search of adventures, for all the household treat him with respect."

"No wonder," eagerly replied Vannina; "for he is so learned, and so clever!Why, though he has been here but a month, he reasons and argues with the Signor, about giving way to melancholy, and sighing, and passing his days in moping solitude, just like a philosopher; though, poor soul!