her as his wife. The heart of Valeria sunk at a proposal so different to what she had expected; but she dared not refuse compliance.

"Tell me, my Valeria (said Montalva); do you agree to my wishes?" "Alas! you know I have no choice, (replied she); I must do as you please, signor; my fate is in your hands."

My future life (cried he, eagerly), shall prove that I deserve the confidence you place in me." The eye of Valeria met his, and for a moment he shrunk abashed from her mild but penetrating glance.

D'Rosonio and his Maria, had been now nearly two years married, and they were both desirous of children; the countess had been lavish of her gifts to the convent of her namesake, the Virgin, and daily did the amiable enthusiast beseech the Holy Mary for an heir to the estate and title of her beloved lord. For some time past she had bad reason to think that her prayers were heard, but

she carefully kept to herself expectations that might be disappointed; and it was not 'till hope became certainty, that she communicated her situation to the enraptured count.

Perhaps nothing could have aggravated the misery of the unfortunate Signora di Soranzo more than this circumstance; her nature was too noble and too pure for her to envy the happiness of her friend, but when she contrasted the countess's situation with her own, her heart was rent with the severest pangs. Tenderly solicitous for the health of his wife, the count's eye followed her steps with an expression of mingled pleasure and anxiety. Did she express the slightest wish for any thing, he was miserable until it was procured for her; tenderly attentive as he had always been to her, he was now if pos sible more so than ever, and her health and amusement seemed to be his sole care.

How different was the fate of Valeria!

Though her pregnancy was not yet visible, she shrunk with terror from every glance, fearful that it should be suspected; and often, when sinking under the severest sufferings both of mind and body, she strove to appear as usual, lest the countess should insist upon her having advice, which she knew must discover her situation. Montalva had again left the castle, after promising to return before it would be necessary for her to quit it; the dread of discovery made her most anxious to be gone; yet, when she thought of leaving, perhaps for ever, the only friends she had on earth, her very soul recoiled, and there were moments when she thought of acknowledging to the countess what had passed; but her native modesty prevented her taking this step, and she awaited the return of Montalva in a state of mind that might excite pity even in thẻ bosom of a savage.

For his own sake Montalva kept his promise; he had arranged every thing

for Valeria's flight, but fear of being suspected as the cause of it forbade his accompanying her. Nothing could exceed the consternation of the count and countess when she was missed; the most diligent search was made for her, but in vain; and grieved as D'Rosonio was at her loss, he was doubly so from the fear that her flight would injure the countess's health. Neither D'Rosonio nor his Maria had the slightest suspicion of Montalva, who remained at the castle for some days after Valeria left it.

From the castle, he returned to Naples; and stopped there for some time before he ventured to join Valeria, whom he had placed in a retired situation some miles distant from thence; callous as his heart was, he felt shocked and surprised at the alteration which so short a time had made in the victim of his arts; her hollow eye, for ever dimmed by tears; her pallid cheek, from whence the rose of youth and health had van. ished; spoke volumes of reproaches,

though her tongue uttered none. It wanted yet some months to that time, which Valeria so much dreaded; but though Montalva saw her frequently, he did not again mention the performance of his promise, and every day diminished her faith in his word; slowly, and reluctantly, did she acknowledge to her own heart, the unworthiness of a man, who spite of reason, she still loved; and as the time of her becoming a mother approached, the idea of what would be the future destiny of herself and her in fant, almost distracted her.

At last the moment to which she looked forward with so much terror arrived; and she gave birth to a lovely girl. Oh, nature, how sweet is thy power over the heart of a mother! all that the unfortunate Valeria had suffered, all that she might suffer, was forgotten, when she pressed her babe to her bosom, and wetted its little face with tears of delight.

Montalva was at Naples, when the ac