couchement of Valeria took place, and nearly a month elaspsed before he saw her; but what a revolution had that time created in the mind of Valeria; the birth of her child had opened to her a source of happiness, the most unhoped for; she was never tired of caressing it, of gazing on its little features, and tracing in them her own likeness, and that of Montalva. Of his making her his wife, she did not now retain a hope, but she had determined on a plan that would, she thought, meet with his approbation; and she longed impatiently for his return that she might communicate it to him.

Montalva's resolution in respect to the future destination of Valeria, had long been fixed; and he purposely refrained from seeing her 'till he thought she had regained sufficient strength to hear her fate without danger to her life; as soon as he thought that was the case, he resolved to lose no time in announcing to her his determination.

He found her, with her infant in her arms; she presented it to him, and he coldly kissed its cheek." I have much to say to you Valeria, (cried he); will you dismiss your child, and hear me?" His words and still more the manner in which they were uttered fell like a bolt of ice upon the heart of Valeria; she gave the infant to her attendant, who left the room, and Montalva proceeded.

"I have unfortunately, Valeria, injured my estate, which was never large, by some youthful errors, and I have not at this time the means to support a wife in the manner which my rank demands; this is the only excuse I have to offer, for the non-performance of my promise to you; but it is an excuse which when you reflect upon the miseries that attend a union where prudence is not consulted, you will, I think admit the justice of." He paused, but Valeria replied not, and he continued. "After what has passed, there is but one step which you can take with propriety; but one safe and

honourable asylum, to which you can resort;a convent."

"A convent! exclaimed Valeria; what then becomes of my child?" "I will see that it is properly taken care of," cried Montalva.

"Oh no, no, (said Valeria), never will I consent to part with my babe; I can remain in obscurity; I had determined to do so; you have nothing, indeed you have not, to apprehend from me; but I will lose my life sooner than my child."

The emotion of Valeria, for a moment staggered the cruel resolution which Montalva had formed; but it was only for a moment.

"Check these wild emotions Valeria, (said he sternly); every consideration of reason and prudence, calls imperiously upon you to part with the infant, whom it would be madness to keep."

The tears, the distraction of the unfortunate Valeria, could not prevent her child being torn from her arms, and for from_her

some days afterwards she was so ill, that Montalva dared not remove her to the convent where he intended to place her; her illness indeed appeared so dangerous, that he begun to fear for her life, and hardened as he was, he started at the thought of being her murderer: he sent her a message by her attendant that he had something to propose which would alleviate her grief, and Valeria, who hoped that he meant to restore her child, instantly admitted him.

After endeavouring to palliate the step he had taken, he informed her that though for the present, he was compelled to separate her from her infant, it was not his intention to do so for ever; since in a very few years, he would place the child in the convent where he meant she should reide. He thought that if she knew he was positively determined, that she should take the veil, it would be a blow that she could not support; this part of his resolution therefore, he concealed from her.

The hope of again seeing her child, had an almost magical effect upon Valeria, and in a short time, she was so far recovered, as to be removed to the convent where her seducer meant that she should end her days.

Montalva had told the lady abbess, that she was an orphan, and his near re lation; and that a wish to preserve her from the snares to which youth and loveliness is liable, was the reason he placed her in the convent of St. Sebastian. As he was well aware that the nuns would be anxious to dive into the cause of her melancholy, he added that she had recently lost an aunt with whom she had resided the greatest part of her life. He told Valeria the tale he had fabricated, which he advised her for her own sake not to contradict, and he assu red her, that on her acquiescence with his will in this, and every other respect, depended her hope of seeing her child. His victim heard him in silence, her meek spirit was indeed bowed to