THE MONK. m 



" The two female companions had much to converse about, many 

 questions to ask, and many strange adventures to hear ; but, as they 

 were both tired with the exertion of the day, and needed rest and 

 sleep, the count consented, though reluctantly, to stay the next day 

 at the monastery, in order to afford them the gratification of each 

 other's society. The following morning, clouds enveloped the moun- 

 tain, the air was piercingly cold, the wind howled dismally, the spi- 

 rit of the storm was let loose, and stalked from crag to crag with 

 devastating strides. The winter had now commenced in its deep- 

 est intensity ; and, like the cold heartlessness of the world which 

 freezes every stream of generous impulse and chills every bud of 

 promised happiness, it quickly changed the face of all that was fair 

 and bright, to one blank desert. But, unlike that winter of the 

 soul, it shall again yield to genial spring, and flowers shall bloom 

 and rills meander, where now the eye finds nothing but lifeless ste- 

 rility to rest upon ; while for the blighted heart, and the seared 

 affections there is no green spot ; no power to liberate the once 

 frozen currents of youthful hopes and early visions. The monk 

 paused, and seemed struggling with some painful emotion which, in 

 a few seconds, by a strong effort he mastered. The weather re- 

 mained so tempestuous and severe, he resumed, that those only who 

 were well acquainted with the various paths and turnings of this 

 wilderness, and had been long inured to its hardships dared venture 

 abroad. The travellers were all detained in the Hospice, and it 

 was many days before they were enabled to proceed on their 

 journey. 



" It will be necessary to refer to many circumstances that happened 

 previously to the period of which I speak, to enable you to under- 

 stand the subsequent events. Colonel Hamilton was an English 

 gentleman of good family, but small fortune. At the commence- 

 ment of his career, he followed the profession of arms from a pure 

 love of glory, and a chivalrous spirit of enterprize. He was enthu- 

 siastic and impetuous, holding all danger at defiance, when only his 

 own personal hazard was involved, but ever prudent and considerate 

 where the lives or safety of others might be at stake. He rose to 

 fame and distinction ; rank and honour waited upon him ; his name 

 stood foremost in deeds of valorous exploits. The world was all 

 bright before him ; but this was not to last. He was soon to re- 

 ceive a blow from an unseen hand that would dim all his fair pros- 

 pects, and dash the cup of sweets from his lips — a blow, that would 

 at once make shipwreck of all his fondly cherished anticipations, and 

 leave him a prey to vain sorrows and unavailing regrets. 



