1828.] The Convent of Catania. 65 
The old man watched this decay, and a sigh, or an unusual tremor of 
voice, was all the counsel he could give. He felt that his own support 
was gone, but he checked not the strong impulses that led away from 
him the fond heart of his daughter. It was a severe pang that accom- 
panied the dismissal of his proud plans, and interested hopes. He could 
not see his child taken from him without a selfish sense of sorrow ; but 
that her love should be given to an unknown foreigner, looked upon 
with suspicion, and credited as one of gentle birth, only on the faith of 
his unsupported word, this was the woe that struck hardest on his 
heart ; and when he affianced her to young Montalto, the prejudices of 
an old patrician lingered long after the regrets of a desolate and lonely 
father. They were affianced ; but one necessary preliminary was yet to 
be accomplished. The heir of the Conte d’Alessi had not hitherto been 
acquainted with the occurrences of his own family, and his presence, 
from a distant part of the island, was required before the ceremony of 
his sister’s nuptials. A messenger was despatched, and the summonses 
were answered in an uncourteous strain by the dissolute young noble- 
man: who, while expressing his disapproval of the alliance, intimated 
that his reasons were more than he could state, otherwise, than, as he 
intended, by a personal conference. In a few days he arrived, but 
positively refused to see the stranger to whom he so mysteriously ob- 
jected. He conversed with his father in an unintelligible manner, but 
gave glimpses of a serious meaning, in the half-imputations he threw out 
against Montalto. Still, no entreaty or remonstrance, of the old man 
could gain from him an explicit accusation. The charge, incoherent 
and left to his conjecture, conjured up a thousand phantoms before his 
eyes; he feared he knew not what; his dear daughter might be the 
prey of a criminal or a dishonoured outcast ;—there might be the brand 
of public guilt, or personal shame, on this young foreigner. He appealed, 
he implored his son, to reveal what he had to disclose ; but no answer 
came, but in dark looks and equivocal hints. 
It was during one of these conferences that the object of suspicion, by 
accident, found his way into the apartment of the count. He entered, 
ignorant of the purpose and parties of the conversation ; but his eyes no 
sooner fell on the countenance.of one of these, than a change, violent and 
terrible, conyulsed his features. The placid expression of the young 
lover was agitated with all the passions of astonishment and rage: his 
_ eye beamed with fury, and as the colour deserted his cheek, it was with 
an papnese of deadly purpose that he uttered his first words. 
_ “Villain,” he exclaimed, “ thou tremendous villain! art thou come at 
ast to satisfy me? Thank God for this!” 
_ He paused—but the eye of the young count fell, and no answer came 
rom him, as his father, with vain earnestness, sought for an explanation 
8 strange address. 
_ “Wretch !” continued Montalto, “would you ask him to confess his 
; villainy—to convict himself? No, no: he has not that honesty ; one thing 
' I entreat to know, by what base acts he wormed himself here. Oh! 
trust him not with the confidence of a moment. I know too hor- 
_ ibly how he will betray it. Yet, once again, I ask, how came the 
_ monster here ?” 
_ “ Are you mad, Montalto?” answered the old count. ‘“ Would you, 
by this paroxysm, attempt to change my whole nature? would you, by 
_ your wild speech, strive to overcome the warm feelings of a father ?” 
M.M. New Series—Vou. VI. No.31. K 
