212 



THERESA ABRUZZI. 



Concluded from page 192. 



The spirit that had borne her through this cruel attack faded 

 with the disappearance of Castel-Monti, and a vague dread of 

 impending evil, not the less painful because it was dark and un- 

 defined, took possession of her imagination. In that utter des- 

 pondency of soul which so often follows strong excitement, she 

 wandered into the garden ; but the balmy gale of evening passed 

 vainly over her fevered brow; and, abandoning herself to the 

 indulgence of feelings which could not be repressed, she sunk 

 down on the steps of that temple which had once before seemed 

 ominous of ill, and wept without restraint. Did then the sus- 

 picions of the prince point at the real murderer of her father, 

 and had his features been marked by her attendants? True, as 

 Petroni, he was unknown to all except Marina, on whose fidelity 

 she could at all hazards rely. But should he reappear at Man- 

 tuo, might not the brigand be recognised in the marquis Petroni? 

 Might not she at last be compelled to stand forward as the public 

 accuser of one to whom her heart still involuntarily cleaved; 

 ay, even to pursue him to the death ? A deep sigh disturbed 

 her meditations: she looked up — Marco stood before her! 

 That eye, that gaze, rivetted on her countenance in sorrow, in 

 love, in passionate adoration, could be only his; but the haggard 

 face, the matted locks, the spare attenuated form, that seemed to 

 indicate the last stage of suffering nature, bore no trace of liis 

 former self. She hid her face in agony. 



" Leave me, fly, for the love of Heaven ! — This fatal spot will 

 be your death." 



"O might I but die thus," he exclaimed, gazing wildly on her, 

 '* I were blest indeed. But it must not be, I came but to look 

 on you once more ere I yielded up this miserable being : your 

 pardon I dare not ask." 



" Oh yes, yes ! I do forgive you freely, and from my soul : 

 yet oh, if yoii would not see me expire at your feet, begone ! 

 already, perhaps, your feet are tracked. Ha, a noise 1 be speedy 

 for your life " 



He heard it not, or if he heard, disregarded it; his soul 

 seemed to have drunk in that sweet forgiveness, and to be venting 

 its transports in humble praise and gratitude to Heaven. At 

 this moment, the prince of Castel-Monti, at the head of her 



