whole face of the globe fit to exist in during three months of the year :-Baden, Aix in Savoy, and Cauterez. Having once reached the third of these spots, there is left but one resource, which is, to return to the first, and so on in succession, as long as it pleases Heaven that life shall endure. That year the Pyrenees were in fashion; and to the Pyrenees, accordingly, all the world, that is, the fashionable world, repaired. Cavalcades were crossing and jostling each other on the roads, and sedanchairs in the streets: so much for the day-time. At night-fall, chandeliers were lighted-the orchestra breathed forth its joyous harmony,-quadrille and waltzing parties gathered around; whilst the play-tables were unfolded on each side, and heaps of gold glittered and chinked on the broad green cloth. Play! thou merciless fiend, gliding in with snake-like stealth, wherever there is hand to sting, or victim to devour! thou hideous leprosy on the great social body, bringing into contact with malignant zeal the healthy members with the gangrenous and corrupt, the more surely to spread the fell contagion! A visitor at every party, a guest at every fête, thou hast thy share marked out for thee beforehand and chosen by thyself! Wherever wealth and youth and beauty are assembled, thither, from his smoky den, repairs the insatiate demon, as the vulture to his destined prey; breathless and haggard—but indefatigable in his dire vocation, he brandishes his hideous rake; and there at midnight sits installed in livid splendour as on a throne, scorn in his eye and sarcasm on his lip; like the Mephistopheles of the German drama, he counts up the number of his guests with their pale candaverous looks, and sunken eyes—his constant nightly guests, still faithful in their attendance, as a dog grovels to the master that mercilessly chastises him with kicks and blows!

:

That evening, at Saint-Sauveur, there was dancing on one side and play on the other. Here, the glare of wax-lights, the sparkle of diamonds on the foreheads of the women, the confused murmur of lively conversation, drowned in the harmonious voice of the orchestra:-there two or three wax-lights on a table, round which were seated a coterie of grave, anxious-looking and thoughtful men,-a few words exchanged at intervals, and, for accompaniment, the metallic sound of the handfuls of gold, which rolled about and tinkled as they fell.

When our pretty Marietta d'Ambray entered the saloon, leaning on Alfred's arm, the crowd made way for her, every one admiring the handsome couple as they advanced up the ball-room to join in the general festivity, and participate in the common happiness. In a short time afterwards, Marietta, beset on every side with invitations, was dancing, smiling, and oblivious of all around her; forgetful alike of her father, who, from a remote corner of the room, was contemplating her graceful figure with paternal pride; and of her poor Alfred, who was following her every motion with a lover's eyes, but was seized with a fit of sadness for which he was at a loss to account, and which he endeavoured, in vain, to banish from his mind.

The dances were all made up, the ball-room filled to suffocation. The young man, fatigued with the glare of light, the bustle, and the heat, enterered the adjoining room, and approached the hazard-table.

"Come, gentlemen," cried the banker, "there is still a stake or two to make up."

"I make the rest, sir," said Alfred, unconcernedly, willing to try whether the sad forebodings with which his mind had been haunted during the day, had the slightest foundation.

And then without further thought on the subject, he leaned against the door of the saloon, searching among the crowd of faded forms, resplendent with jewellery, features heightened with rouge, and eyes sparkling with artificial lustre, for the charming little head, and the sweet look of his lovely Marietta. The harsh voice of the banker recalled the young sailor from his reverie.

"You have won sir," said he, in a sharp and grating tone. And the banker pushed towards him a heap of gold.

"I!" said Alfred approaching the table," nay, but that cannot be possible."

"He refuses!" cried one of the players, leaning his elbows on the table, and grasping, with his eyes, the glittering pile of Louisd'ors.

"Psha! are such things ever refused?" sneeringly cried another. The young sailor cast a rapid glance at the players, whose eyes were all fixed on him, and addressing the banker, saidThis, sir, I take it is a joke. It is quite impossible that all this can belong to me!"

"But it is all yours, sir,"-replied the banker in the same cold tone, adding, with a bitter smile--" You held the bank and the cards pay!"

"Then, gentlemen," exclaimed Alfred, "the deal is void!" A prolonged murmur of astonishmant ran throughout the assemblage.

"I was not aware that I was playing for so high a stake," continued the young seaman, " and had I lost, most assuredly I would never have paid."

The banker was a man, as yet in the prime of life, but grown old before his time, by care and frequent watchings, and indulgence in the baser passions; with livid, hollow cheeks, and a restless and cunning, though sunken eye, imparting to his look a character at once false, forbidding and sinister.

"Ah!" said he, leaning back in his chair, his pallid lips curling with a faint laugh of scorn and derision." Indeed, young gentleman! but you would most certainly have paid it, though; and that too in good hard Louis-d'ors, such as these, or in powder from the Royal Arsenal!"

Alfred made a convulsive spring backwards. "LIAR!" he exclaimed, in a hollow voice.

The banker sat motionless; but his thin lip quivered with suppressed emotion; the same sardonic smile played on his features, but their paleness had faded to a yet more livid and ashy hue. In an instant the players were on their feet, and grouping round the two actors in this strange and unexpected drama. Alfred was standing up, his hands convulsively clenched, his eye dilated, and his whole figure shaking with rage. The banker on the contrary, was rocking himself easily backwards and forwards in his chair, and casting round on the spectators a look of selfpossession and complacency, at the same time playing with the pile of gold heaped up on his right.

"Sir," said he at last, measuring Alfred with his eye, from head to foot, with the coolest effrontery, "it is more than probable you do not know who I am; that, indeed, is to me sufficiently clear. . . And as for these gentlemen here," he added, with a wave of the hand towards the spectators, "I have every reason to suppose, that knowing them, you would not have taken upon yourself to give me the lie in their presence. Pray, sir, what may be your name.

"Insolent fellow!" cried Alfred, with concentrated rage.

"Just as it may please you,"-replied the banker, with imperturbable calmness. "Then you are equally unacquainted with my name. I have the choice of weapons, sir. Now 'tis as well you should know, that the Izard hunter of these mountains is not more sure of his rifle, than I am of my pistol.

This was said distinctly, coolly, and with an air of conviction which caused a shudder among the spectators. The man was really frightful with his measured phrases, and his sang-froid. The players listened to him, one and all, with a kind of dread; Alfred himself was scarcely proof against it.

"You have a mind to frighten me!" said he impatiently. "I! not in the least," replied the methodical banker, with apathetic indifference, and the same cold sneer and smile of duplicity. "But I cannot find it in my conscience to assassinate you." And so saying, he felt slowly in each of his pockets, from which he drew at last a small rifle barrelled pistol, which he placed before him on the table.

A death-like silence pervaded the whole room.

"There, sir!" he continued, turning directly opposite to the young sailor, and crossing his legs, as though he was entering on the most common-place conversation imaginable: "This is the best thing I have to propose; indeed it is all that I can possibly do in order to accommodate matters. Bring the dice," he continued in the same tone of voice, turning half-round on his chair-" and shut the door."

The door of the play-room was closed, the dice placed upon the table. The sound of the orchestra, and of the festive ball, only reached the room as a suppressed and distant murmur.

"Now then," said he, "here we have dice and a pistol; the highest thrower kills the other. We shall settle it thus, eh?"

The young sailor approached the table, seized the dice-box in mere desperation, shook it with convulsive energy, cast one furtive glance towards the ball-room door-and threw !

As if bowed by an electric shock every head was simultaneously bent over the cloth. The action of this terrific drama had passed so rapidly-the denouement was so near at hand, that one could scarcely believe in the reality of the atrocious scene, thus enacting without noise or interruption, around that accursed table. The banker in a loud voice reckoned up the points.

"Six and six are twelve, and one-thirteen: a good throw, a very good throw, upon my word, young gentleman!—a good throw!"

He took up the dice, replaced them in the box, and with an air of the coolest effrontery, addressing the spectators

"Thirteen," he exclaimed, "a very good point!--but it's always an unlucky number. Come, gentlemen, who bets fifty Louis-d'ors on me?-Fifty Louis-d'ors on the life of that gentleman yonder?" he continued, fixing his eye with malignant and deadly glare on the young lieutenant, who quailed involuntarily beneath it.

The players turned pale and remained silent.

"Well then," said he with a smile, "as there seems to be no bet, here's for myself."-and the dice rolled upon the table. "Fifteen!-You have lost, sir. A pity, too, with so good a point; the affair, gentlemen, was well contested, at all events. So then sir, your life belongs to me. Are you ready?"

All present drew back in terror. The banker still stretched out in his chair, was quietly engaged in adjusting the lock and carefully examining the priming of his pistol.

"I am ready," replied the young man, standing motionless before him.

"A little more room, if you please, gentlemen," said the banker, at the same time bowing to the spectators, and motioning them with his arm to stand on one side. They obeyed mechanic. ally, gaping with mute astonishment, each vacant face paralyzed with a stupid stare, and betraying nought save a feeling of instinctive dread.

The banker with his arm resting on the table, and his head supported in his left hand, took a steady aim at the young lieutenant.

"FIRE," exclaimed Alfred, uncovering his breast, his countenance beaming with intrepidity, and unshrinking resignation. The banker withdrew his hand and raised his head.

The spectators breathed once more. This unnatural scene had been protracted too long, and for an instant there was hope. "We have not chosen seconds," he remarked. "But as for that matter," he added after a moment's silence, "these gentlemen may serve as witnesses in case of need."

He levelled again and fired. The young lieutenant lay gasping on the floor in the last agonies of death!

"The cards pass, gentlemen," cried the banker, as he laid the pistol, still smoking, on the table.

At the noise made by the report, the folding doors of the saloon were burst open, and the crowd rushed in. There was a piercing shriek-a young girl fell senseless on the bleeding corpse o Alfred. It was Marietta.*

The physicians say that she may one day recover her senses:

forms of the august prelate, on whose finger glittered the apostolic ring, and of the canons wrapt in a cloud of incense. Below the presbytery stood a crowd of visages, upon which beamed the smile of Easter and of happiness. Age, youth, man, and woman, —all confessed the thrill of jubilee; all appeared decked with new garments, and looking as though they felt immortal.

Near the bronze gates of the altar, knelt the noble, the lovely, and the jewelled widow, Spinosa Meraviglia; but her dark eye glows not with devotion. Her gaze roved along the line of cavaliers; yet vainly for whom she sought, for not there appeared the youthful form of Don Eloiso.

In procession, the archbishop bore the eucharist round the church, then ascending the pulpit, pronounced a discourse replete with that piety and winning persuasion which so distinguished Saint Charles Borommeo. A hymn of thanks pealed forth at its close, and while he passed down the grand aisle to depart, thousands knelt at his feet, making the sign of the cross as he blessed them. But Spinosa Meraviglia recked not his blessing; and only sighed that her stay in the holy edifice had been prolonged with the vain hope of beholding her earthly love. Beckoning at length to her attendants, they cleared the way for their mistress to the steps of the duomo, where, entering her carriage, she gave directions to be driven homeward.

Music sounded in the saloons of the palace Visconté. Thi ther the high-born, the thoughtless, the gay, glided in the circling correnté. Plumes, veils, and spangled scarfs, waived in exultation of the nightly fes ival. Wearing eloquent smiles, rested the lady on the arm of her cavalier, whose eyes sparkled with the wild inebriating influence of revelry. Yet there are some who dance not, though youth dwells on their arched brows. Amidst these is Donna Spinosa. Vainly did she seek the various groups: Don Eloiso is not here, and his place was wont to be with the most brilliant. Again is she disappointed; the day has passed, the night wears on without the sight of her adored, and he promised to meet her in the duomo, and at this festival. Jealousy, fear, perplexity, rend by turns her bosom. She recalls the soft silvery tones of his voice, the eloquence of his language, the gaze of his dark eyes, and above all his youth. "Impossible," thought she, "he is too enamoured to forsake me. He is a willow which I can bend as it suiteth my pleasure; yet his absence is strange. Were he indisposed, he would have let me know. What then can thus keep him away?"

The lady was immersed in these reflections, when a wellknown pretender to her heart, Don Arrigo d'Afra, interrupted them, while a young fair being hung upon his arm.

"Why are you looking so melancholy, Donna Spinosa, when joy like a haloo encircles you, my sweet morning star. Pray, shed the benign influence of your rays on one who has been so long your worshipper!"

"Have you seen aught of Don Eloiso to-day?" demanded the lady earnestly, unheeding his hyperbolical compliment.

Nay, my beautiful and well-named Donna Spinosa. Who knows whether poor Eloiso has not perished beneath the thorns planted by your eyes ?”

Saying these words, Afra mingled with the Dancers; and his reckless laugh with that of the young thoughtless one, whom he led in the mazes of the correnté, echoed to the ear of Spinosa Meraviglia. How many did she question that night if they knew aught about Eloiso, but none could tell. At length, wearied and mournful she retired from the festival.

It was long past midnight, still high pealed the revelry. In a boudoir, pannelled with Venetian mirrors, were seated Afra with the young Candida Valvezza. A bright smile illumined the dark visage of the former; the latter looked vexed, and as though filled with some disagreeable suspicion.

"Tell me now, Afra," she exclaimed, "do you not still love the beautiful Donna Spinosa ?"

"I told you I hate her, my lovely Candida," he responded, with a bitter laugh.

"What, then, did those words signify, which you so emphatically addressed to her in my presence ?"

"Mere empty words, uttered to see if I could move my Candida's jealousy. Have I so eaily succeeded?" "Forgive me, Afra, I wronged you," passionately replied the fair one, while her lover pressed her hands to his lips.

“Then you will agree to my proposal, Candida?” he exclaimed, looking at her, as the sea-eagle watches the glittering flying-fish.

"What could I refuse to Afra?" said the girl tenderly; "to-morrow,-yet, why do I say to morrow!-within three hours from hence-then I will fly with you. Now let us separate, my Afra, for we may awaken the suspicion of my brother, who is not, to my sorrow, thy friend."

"Then, fare thee well, my sweet one, till dawn;" responded the lover, and they parted.

It was sunset sunset on the banks of Adda! A rainbow, formed by the cascade of Stenio, shone gaily to the ray of the setting sun. The young leaf of the poplar trembled in the gentle zephyr, and on its perfumed wing, floated the sweet melody of the nightingale.

On a jutting rock, at whose base the clear waters of the Adda rushed by with velocity, stood an embattled and ancient edifice. The ivy and juniper overspread its walls, which the evening light endued with a mystic solemnity. Over the highest battlement leant Don Arrigo d'Afra, and Candida Valvezzi.

"How deep is my happiness, Afra!" she exclaimed with the ardour of her age and country; "here none can interupt us, and to-night our hands, as our hearts, will be joined for ever; will they not, my treasure? Look, the sun bath already set; I must go and prepare my garland from the flowers in the castle garden."

Seizing his hand, she pressed it to her lips; then with a light musical laugh bounded away, like a wild chamois. Afra watched her fairy form, and an involuntary sigh escaped his lips. But soon his eye became lighted with a fierce joy, and proudly he began to pace the broad terrace, as though agitated by overwhelming feelings. How little in accordance were those feelings with the calm serenity of the hour. He felt not its beauty, and the stillness seemed but to add additional impulse to his passions. One by one the stars came forth, and the moon began to shed her beams on the cascade, which glittered like the mail of some gigantic warrior. From the castle garden the night minstrel began to pour its notes, and Afra, lately accustomed to a city, listened involuntarily, chained by the spell of novelty. At that moment, a fairy hand suddenly rested on his shoulder; it was Candida.

"Are you admiring the scene, my treasure!" she exclaimed; "it is well worthy to be admired by you; and I would that nought formed the theme of your converse, save the beauty which lies before us, and that the city's pleasures be forgotten, together with the world.

Don Arrigo turned and gazed upon the young enamoured being. The moonbeam shone on her soft features silvering the dewy flowers with which she had garlanded her graceful head. There was something in her appearance so gentle, so lovely, so spiritlike, that a slight feeling of pity entered his soul, and seizing her fairy hand, he kissed it with fervour.

Together, they now entered the castle. The grand hall was brilliantly lighted, and Candida, all smiles and hope, traversed it with him to pass into the chapel, where a priest and his attendant awaited their coming. Ascending to the altar, the marriage ceremony began. Something in the air of the minister awakened a dread in the mind of Candida, but a look at her Afra quelled it; and when the tie, which linked this young confiding being to him was sealed, with what joy did she return his caress, and fondly hang on his breast persuaded that it throbbed only for her.

Lonely, in a gilded apartment of her palace, reclined Donna Spinosa. Sadness and perplexity veiled her fair features, and

her large black brilliant eye roved from the page she was reading towards the door, thinking that every footstep announced the coming of Eloiso. Alas! it was only the household passing too and fro in the corridors. Visitors at length entered, and from every one did she earnestly make inquiries of her youthful lover; but fruitless were her interrogatories. No one had seen him. Various were the surmises as to his unaccountable disappearance, and she was informed that the retainers of Eloiso were in the utmost consternation at his mysterious absence.

Donna Spinosa grew pale at this communication, when at that moment a servitor entered, and presented her a billet. On reading it, her eye became radiant with hope, and upon the departure of the visitors, she again perused the note. I was written in an anonymous hand, and prayed her to go that evening, immediately after sunset, and unattended, to Porta Nuova, where, under its arch, she would be accosted by the writer, who would acquaint her with every particular regarding the disappearance of the young Spanish cavalier, Eloiso.

The billet, though mysterious, wrought no fear in the enamoured heart of Donna Spinosa, and she determined to attend the invitation. How she chid the hours, seeming longer than usual. Like the Greek lady of Sestos, she watched the declining sun, which might become an Aurora of love for her.

At length, the long-desired hour arrived; and throwing over her the ample black veil, so well adapted to the purpose of secrecy, she issued by a private stair from her palace. The streets were thronged with people on account of the Easter holidays. Equipages rattled on the pavement, and all appeared life and jubilee. The heart of Spinosa alone felt mournful, and these signs of popular revelry fell upon it like a mockery. It was the first time in the course of her existence that she found herself thus isolated in the midst of the city, and it was only the power of affection that inspired her with courage to reach the gate of Porta Nuova. Beneath the arch were two sentinels pacing before the entrance. She gazed eagerly around her. A tall figure whose slouched hat was drawn low over his face, approached, and hurriedly whispered to her, "Signora, here we might be observed; deign to follow me to a more retired spot." An agitation came over the frame of Spinosa; yet anxiety to discover the fate of Eloiso, made her almost mechanically follow her conductor, who proceeded outside the gate. Solitary was the place where he led the lady: large chestnut trees shadowed the path, under one of which he suddenly halted.

"Now tell me quickly, signor, of Don Eloiso," she exclaimed imploringly.

A laugh broke from the bravo,-for such his attire revealed him; when clapping a gag to her mouth, he whistled, and three men rushing from behind the trees, aided in bearing her to a vehicle which stood at a little distance. Overwhelmed with terror and astonishment, Spinosa struggled in the grasp of the treacherous bravo. Alas! vain were her efforts, for in another moment she was placed in the vehicle. The lash sounded, and four strong steeds bore her at full speed along the sequestered road.

Darkness veiled the castle of Afra. In a cabinet, on a sofa of antique form, reclined its lord, and his young bride. It was the second night after their marriage. The latter looked happy, and conversed gaily; the former restless and abstracted, which at length attracted her attention.

"What so occupies your thoughts, dearest Afra?" she exclaimed, "for they wander far from me."

"You are in a sportive vein, Candida. Why should they wander? But hark! that was the tramp of horses."

"Nay, it is only the roar of the Adda," responded the happy bride, rising and going to the lattice.

Another moment and the tramp was distinctly heard; A fra broke into a wild laugh, while his dark eye flashed with triumph. Candida looked surprised, and startled.

"Why dost thou laugh so, dearest ?—know you, it sounds like a mockery; and then, Afra, your look is so strange."

"Aye, and I feel so too," he exclaimed, suddenly rising, and darting out of the room, locking the door after him.

Overwhelmed with astonishment, the young bride knew not what to surmise as the cause of this extraordinary proceeding. Curiosity and fear, after a brief lapse of time, led her to knock violently at the door.

"Open the door, dear Afra!-open it, I pray you," she exclaimed, on hearing footsteps approach.

“It is you, then, signora. By Saint Ambrogio!” responded a deep harsh voice; "I marvelled where the noise came from. But how came you to be thus engaged?"

"It matters not, if you only let out."

"Cospetto, signora! but it does matter. Tell me, did Don Arrigo lock you in?"

"He did,—but what does that signify?"

"Signify?—why if I let you out, I should soon feel the signification of his vengeance. Diavolo! it would be a dangerous experiment."

"But he never shall know it. A golden recompense shall be yours, if you only release me.”

"First swear that you never will betray me to Don Arrigo," responded the voice after a short pause.

"I swear by the Holy Virgin," replied Candida, with tremulous anxiety.

The key, which had been left in the lock, was now turned, and the door opening, displayed the figure of the chief bravo. "Now tell me where is Don Arrigo?" she exclaimed, while dropping her purse into his hand.

"That no gold would tempt me to do. My life would answer for it. You must be satisfied with what I have done," replied the bravo, quickly turning away, leaving Candida to seek her spouse alone through the numerous apartments of the castle.

In a room within the western tower of the castle stood Afra. Before him knelt Spinosa Meraviglia in tears. A bitter smile curled his lip, as fixed on her grief-worn, yet beautiful visage, shone the gaze of his deeply-set eyes.

'Spinosa, hear me !" he exclaimed; "I once loved you, and you wronged me. You are now in my power, yet I shall be loth to use it. I have ever loved you, and I love you still; grant me therefore your affection, and I vow I will forgive and forget the injury you did me."

"Alas! my love is already bestowed on Eloiso. Not for myself, Don Arrigo, do I thus humble myself before you, but for him, whom I feel certain you know more of than you will confess. Tell me therefore, by the faith of a Christian, and the honor of a noble, where is Eloiso?"

"How oft shall the name of that hated youth sound in my ear?" responded Afra, stamping the pavement; "Spinosa, you must love me."

At these words he bent over her, and attempted to fold her in his arm, but she started up and rushed some paces from him. "Touch me not!" she cried, "at you peril! Let me depart, or a hundred swords will be drawn to rescue me, and give you the dungeon you merit."

"By Saint Spirito! a hot spirit is in you, my fair signora ; one would think that the blood of Gonsalvo flowed in your veins," exclaimed Afra, folding his arms, and gazing smilingly on the indignant Spinosa; "a dungeon do you say, I merit? Follow me, and I will shew you how well I have bestowed it upon one, who, in my judgment, more deservedly merits the favour you wish to bestow upon me."

"Surely you mean not Eloiso," cried Spinosa, turning pale as the column against which she reclined.

"You are loth to come, perhaps, my fair Amazon," said Afra ironically, and offering her his arm.

"Proceed, signor," replied Spinosa, declining his proffered assistance.

With a bitter smile he opened the door, and calling to an attendant for a light, he descended a narrow winding staircase, followed by the lady. After a deep descent he took a key from the breast of his doublet, and unlocking a small door entered a dungeon. Chill, icy chill, was the air, and Spinosa felt a shivering come over her frame, while treading the humid ground whereon their shadows were reflected, looking strange and unearthly by the flickering of the lamp.

"Look there, Donna Spinosa," exclaimed Afra, holding the light to a figure reclining against the wall in chains. "What think you now of my judgment?"

Starting for at a glance which bespoke agony enough to make a demon weep,-Spinosa recognized in that emaciated form, her beloved Eloiso!

She stood for a moment horror-struck and motionless; till love embittered by sorrow, rushed to her heart, and she fell with a torrent of tears on the neck of the captive.

A smile like that of Satan on beholding the ruin of Eve, curled the lips of Afra.

"Thus," he fiercely exclaimed, "does the race of Afra avenge its injuries. Never shall it be said that a Meraviglia spurned with impunity my love, or that a Spanish stranger gained her hand, and made me the mockery of Milan!"

"And never shall it be said," responded Spinosa, bending over Eloiso, and sustaining his pale and wan visinge on her bosom, "that a Meraviglia yielded to the worst, and perhaps the last of the house of Afra. Pause, man of cruelty! and reflect in better judgment on what may prove the sequel of this outrage." Spare your counsel, Donna Spinosa, until it is demanded," cried Afra, grasping his diamond-hilted poignard. "Have you forgotten the winter night you promised me an interview, and kept me in your garden exposed till dawn to the frozen air,which was not so frozen as your heart, whilst this vain stripling Spaniard joined in merriment at my unhappiness. Remember this! and do you reflect, that if in three days you receive not my proffered love, my hand shall lay your adored a corse before you." Spinosa was about to reply, when her eyes encountered a dim shadowy form approaching. Afra, with superstitious awe, made the sign of the cross, while Spinosa clung closer to Eloiso. Rapidly the form advanced, and in another moment they recognized to their astonishment, the youthful features of Candida.

"Who let thee forth?" exclaimed Afra to her, his black eye flashing with fury.

"That may not be told," responded the astonished bride in a tremulous voice, "but tell me, I implore thee, Afra, what means this conduct to thy wife?"

"Wife!-what wife have I, simpleton?" he cried, bursting into a savage laugh, the sound of which echoed through the hollow vault.

"Then thou hast deceived me, Afra!" exclaimed the miserable Candida, recalling the unpriestly air of the priest who celebrated the mock nuptials.

Suddenly she franticly darted towards him, aud attempted to draw his poignard, but the hand of Donna Spinosa, arrested her. "Commit no crime, my poor unhappy Candida," said the latter; "there is a God to avenge our injuries !"

A torrent of tears gushed from the eyes of Candida, as she sunk into the arms of Spinosa.

"Has he deceived you also ?" exclaimed the deluded girl, after an interval of violent sobs. "Alas! what urged you to wreak this infliction on me, Afra?"

Hatred to thee, and thy race!" he responded with a fiendish smile of triumph. "You may now return to that rother, who but lately in public declared, that he would sooner seek alliance with a plebian than with me. Thus have I satiated and avenged the insult."

"Oh, my mother! why did I not die with thee " exclaimed the dishonoured Candida, while Eloiso, inspired with strength by the horror of the scene, rose, and shook his fettered hand at the tyrant.

"Afra!" he cried, "what joy is yours!-what victory! what glory! Is it not a crown of flames which scorches your brow? Does not hatred surround you? What heart will not shudder at your name, and couple it with execration and treachery?—while for us your victims, tears of angel pity will be shed by the just. Heaven will not long permit this ineffable ruin to pass, without your meeting its never failing retribution! "

"Die, Spaniard-die!" exclaimed Afra, rushing impetuously with glittering poignard on the defenceless Eloiso.

Spinosa and Candida, shrieking, placed themselves before the latter, and struggled to withhold the arm of the infuriated man. Their efforts began to fail, when a loud shout echoed in their ears, and lamps and torches, borne by a crowd of soldiers, suddenly illuminated the vault; while, in front, with hasty step advanced the tall form of Count Valvezzi. A cry, like that of the baffled tiger, broke from Afra. "Rodino, villain! hast thou betrayed me!" he exclaimed, drawing his sword, as be perceived his chief bravo among the armed crowd.

With his left hand he drew a pistol from his belt and fired; the ball grazed the face of Rodino. In another moment the pistol of Valvezzi flashed, and a shout of triumph and of joy shook the damp arches, when a corse on the place of his iniquity, lay the worst and the last of the house of Afra.

A month elapsed, and at mid-day on the steps of the Duomo, stood a group of servitors elegantly habited, bearing large bouquets of flowers. From the first of a long line of equipages, stept a lady, followed by two female friends. A page advanced to bear up her train of silver tissue, while from another carriage issued a cavalier, whose black velvet hat looped with a diamond, was overhung by a profusion of white ostrich plumes. Youth glowed on his finely chiselled features; while his complexion of a bright olive, and the fire of his dark eye, revealed him to be the native of a more meridian clime than Lombardy. Gracefully he took the hand of the lady, who appeared in the summer of womanhood, and followed by the noblest of the Milanese dames and cavaliers, entered the Duomo. They ascended the altar, and in a few moments, religion sealed the tie which united the kindred bosoms of Eloiso and Spinosa.

A fierce sallow visaged being leant against one of the massy columns. It was Rodino, who, desirous to retire from his precarious and lawless profession, had offered for a large sum to betray his late master into the hands of Valvezzi. The latter, into whose service he had now entered, contemplated the ceremony with a feeling of sorrow, for he reflected that he was soon to assist at another, of heart-rending nature,-his sister-the betrayed Candida, induing the veil for life.