243 Mine Host’s Last Story. [ Maxcu, 
even if he had the will, to renew that disastrous passion which he had 
before so laudably resisted. Yet his countenance might almost be sup- 
posed to experience a shade of variation, as she spoke to him, or when - 
the discourse fell upon the events of his previous visit ; but it might 
have been interpreted as naturally resulting from associations of the past 
with the present ; especially when it was remembered how short had 
been the interval between his declaration of love for the one, and his 
consummation of it with the other. But when the time for her nuptials 
drew nigh, and it was expected that he would take part in the holy fes- 
tival, or, at any rate, join in the family rejoicings on the occasion, it was 
with pain they heard him declare that he must decline all participation ; 
sheltering his denial under a thousand frivolous excuses—his difference 
of religion—weakness of spirits—and beyond all, a pretended engage- 
ment with a friend to penetrate into the campagna, or interior parts of 
the island, which he had never before visited. Dissatisfaction was on 
the countenances of all at this announcement. Madelena, alone, half 
suspected the cause, and perhaps half-rejoiced that the impression which 
her charms had made should not yet be effaced. But Gianina looked as 
though her hope was turned into despair, and the brightness of that eye 
which had cheered many a festive day when others were dull, now was, 
for the first time, shaded by a gloom that was not again thoroughly dis- 
persed. But his voice to her was more soothing and kind than ever, 
and for a day or two before his excursion he abandoned all other society, 
and lived only with her. He left this house two days before my 
Madelena was married. He returned a week afterwards, conducted 
home with difficulty by his English companion, having been caught by 
the marsh fever, or malaria of the pestilential districts. His face was 
thin and sallow, his limbs quivering, his blood heated and chill at the 
same moment: I never saw such an instance of the disorder. <A year 
before, and a finer youth never went to battle. Now a child could have 
outmastered him—a spectre could not have been more unsightly. 
Gianina was by his side night and day. Her cave protracted the oper- 
ations of the disease, but could not parry them. He lingered on, to 
become every hour more convinced that in this world he could not hope 
to requite one little moiety of the debt of affection incurred to his wife. 
He lingered on, to fear that the sin of not having requited it might be 
registered against him, to forbid his entering there where his earthly 
affections might be renewed and purified. He lingered on, his life spun 
out by the solicitude cf his constant nurse, and entailing upon her an 
inheritance of disease which would shorten her passage through this 
desolate werld. Before he died, he confessed that he absented himself 
from Madelena’s marriage, in the wish to avoid a spectacle which to him 
was still painful. He had been punished! I do believe, from my soul, 
that never worshipper so adored his idol as this dying man reverenced 
his poor wife during the last scenes of this tragedy. The strength of 
love grew upon him, and only combatted with those pious thoughts 
which she herself would prompt, though otherwise, she herself was sure 
to be the theme of his contemplations. He died in her arms, begging 
pardon for the love of which he had defrauded her till now, and in frag- 
ments, speaking with assurance of a happier meeting in a happier world.” 
«© And Gianina ?” 
“« In the left aisle of the Augustine church, just below the shrine of 
St. Magdalene, you will ‘see a flat tablet with a name ———, for she 
did not hold up long afterwards.” JEVAH. 
