1828.] The Convent of Catania. 67 
Four days had elapsed, and Rosina was attending one of the ceremo-« 
nies of her religion, in the principal church of Catania. Her eyes were 
bent on the ground during the holy service of Vespers, and the obscure 
light seareely marked out a little roll of paper that had fallen, she knew 
not how, at her feet. She was on the point of rising from her devo- 
tions, when the object first caught her attention. She gently took it 
up, and, to her surprise, found it directed to herself. It was opened 
“and perused without loss of a moment ; the contents were these: “ If 
you are wise, warn Montalto against disaster ; let him be wary, and act 
in nothing without feresight and preparation ;—there is some one at 
his elbow.” The girl started, and reperused the paper ; her senses 
almost forsook her, as the apprehension of an unknown danger floated 
before her,—she looked fearfully about her, and hurried homewards 
with a wildness of step and look, that were strange to her graceful 
demeanour. That night she slept, not as she had done, but her dreams 
were disturbed and fantastic; and she arose from her feverish couch, 
not the airy and happy creature who had always blest her father’s eye 
with a brightness more cheerful than that of the sunny morn. The 
morning came, and the customary hour of meeting Montalto; but he 
tarried longer than usual. Time passes heavily in the solitude of young 
‘lovers ; but Rosina started as the mid-day bells rang out their peal, and 
an apprehension of some mischance flashed upon her mind at the in- 
stant. She connected his delay with the warning of the little note,— 
and with an anxious voice, she begged her father that some messenger 
might be dispatched to see what hindered the young Montalto, that he 
came not, as was his custom. The old man smiled and comforted her 
fears, which yet he thought not utterly groundless, and lost no time in 
complying with her wishes. Alas! what was the result !—The mes- 
senger returned, but no answer could he give to their inquiries. Mon- 
talto liad been absent from his lodging during the night, and had not 
; since been heard of. His apartment was left in disorder, and no 
clothing or other part of its furniture removed. He had been expected, 
and watched for from the hour of midnight, but no tidings of him had 
reached them. Who shall describe the agony of the young girl, who 
became now too well convinced of the truth of the secret counsel? 
What cries of anguish, what natural laments fell from her in that 
moment of suspense, deepened almost into the horror of certainty. 
___ _Im vain were the sympathy of the father and admonition of friends 
.applied to mitigate her grief. Each hour, as it brought a sort of con- 
ation of her fears, left her more determined in her conviction—more 
complete in her despair. Montalto came not again, and all his virtue, 
and beauty, and manly attractions had passed away, none could tell 
where ; and only were recorded in the gossip of busy bodies, and in 
‘the heart of a fond girl, where they were embalmed as in a faithful 
_ sepulchre. 
_ Yet the course of her pious tears was destined to be checked. It was 
s _ about a month after this occurrence that a letter was put into her hands, 
__ whose superscription seemed to be written in familiar characters, which 
~ only her fears would have distrusted. It was from the beloved Mon- 
 talto,—he was yet alive! She hurried through the contents, with a 
heaving bosom, and brightened countenance ; and with an inarticulate 
burst of joy; fell into her father’s arms, exhausted and senseless. Th 
happy communication was to the following effect :— 
K 2 
r 
E 
