entered. When he approached his distined victim, her repose was calm as the sleep of infants; the cloak in which she had wrapt herself had fallen aside, and discovered her lovely neck and basom, which was partly exposed; Montalva's hand was on his dagger, but his arm was nerveless.

"Fool, coward, that I am! (cried he,) shall I spare this girl, 'till I myself perish? no, never shall public disgrace overtake Montalva," he approached her, but in vain essayed to strike. "What madness (said he, mentally, and averting his eyes from Isabel) from Isabel) to suffer this weakness to unman me!" she made a slight movement; a low, and inarticulate sound escaped her lips, and a blùsh suffused her ingenuous and lovely countenance. Spite of himself, Montalva gazed upon her; and to his surprise, he traced in her features a strong resemblance to Valeria D'Branzo. The thought, of her, again suspended his. purpose; when the minstrel's mirror,

and the objects it presented, darted into his mind. "There is but one way," (thought he), and his dagger was pointed at the bosom of Isabel; but what was the astonishment, the horror of the count, when the form of Valeria, bending over the sleeping Isabel, was distinctly visible to him!

"Wretched Montalva, to what unutterable woe would the murder of Isabel have consigned thee! She is thy own daughter."

Too well did the count recollect in the low and hollow accents of the ærial form, on which he gazed in mute horror, the sweet voice of the betrayed Valeria; and with a groan of agony, he sunk senseless on the floor; his fall awakened Isabel, and her screams brought the old domestic to the chamber. Long did they vainly endeavour to recover the wretched count; at length, he opened his eyes, which he fixed upon Isabel with a convulsive shudder.

"Where is she" (said he, after a long pause). "I am here, signor" (said Isabel).

"I mean thy mother. Knowest thou not that she has burst the confines of the tomb, to save thee from perishing by a father's hand," groaned out Montalva.

"Alas! his senses wander" (said. Isabel), for to her the spectre had not. been visible.

"I tell thee, I would have murdered: thee; yes, though thou art my child" (cried Montalva),

"There is a convent near us, the fathers are skilled in medicine" (said. Lopez).

Fly then for one" (said Isabel), yet, the next moment she was terrified at the idea of remaining alone with Montalva.

"His purpose here was surely an evil one" (thought she), and she called back Lopez, but he was already gone. The count sunk into a state of stupor,

and when the domestic returned with one of the holy fathers, he was apparently calm. The monk questioned

Isabel as to the cause of the count's illness, but her account gave no clue to it. In mild accents, father Francisco addressed the unhappy Montalva, but his reason had fled, and the wildest ravings, burst from his lips; yet from them the father could conjecture a part of the truth. For two nights, did the good Francisco watch by the bed-side of the wretched count: reason at length resumed her sway, and he hastened to make a full confession of his crimes; but the hope of expiating them by penitence, was denied him; he had scarcely owned his guilt, when he again lost his senses. Many were the expiring sinners by whom Francisco had watched and prayed, but never did he witness a death-bed scene so full of horror:

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arm, though slow, is ever sure to punish (said father Francisco, as he vainly presented the symbol of his faith to the expiring count). Oh! could the wretched children of avarice and ambition behold this scene, could they witness the torture which rack the bosom of this unhappy and guilty man, how would they shrink appalled from the commission of crimes like his!"

Isabel, at the desire of the father, had forborne to approach the chamber of Montalva; but when all was over, the good friar revealed to her the secret of her birth; and he now informed her, that as Montalva had no other heir, she was intitled to the castle and domains of the murdered count D'Rosonio.

"Ah! never, never (exclaimed Isabel), I will return to the convent of St. Teresa; there I shall find an asylum; but never will I call the inheritance purchased by blood mine."

"On this point, my child (said the