34 Miranda d'Aiagon ; [_July, 



bowers torn down, and having raged about the whole day like a 

 maniac, he found himself, at eve, at the solitary spot where IVIira's aged 

 companion lay buried. Here he exclaimed, in a sepulchral voice, 

 " Old woman, arise, and tell me where I shall find the traitor ! Open 

 once more thy putrid and corrupted lips — and then may'st thou for 

 ever be silent !" He tore up the green sod of the grave, and raved 

 anew — but no one heard his lamentations. A flight of rooks alone gave 

 answer, as they croaked above his head, hastening, at the approach of 

 night, to their wooded home. IVIiranda now shuddered, as struck by 

 some dark presentiment, and hastened back to the house. He here 

 piled up every combustible and set it in flames. " Here shall no 

 swallow more build her nest !" cried he, " henceforth accursed be this 

 spot !" The thick dense smoke rolled through the apartments, and 

 the flames bursting through the falling roof, spread a fearful gleam 

 over the still darkness of night ; the inhabitants of the neighbouring 

 villages were roused, and came to render assistance. But, like a 

 fiend, ]\Iiranda ran round the burning building, driving every one 

 back with his naked sword, thus protecting the flames in their frightful 

 ravages. Day at length dawned on the smoking pile of ashes, when he 

 quitted the spot and set out in the disguise of a peasant, his mind bent 

 on revenge, to the paternal estate of St. Lorent, which was well known 

 to him, and where he expected with certainty to meet the young couple. 

 But the present possessor could give no information where they were. 

 Revenge drove the unhappy INIiranda from place to place, till the thought 

 struck him, that they had possibly gone to Spain. He determined, 

 therefore, to bend his steps that way, and thus once more entered his 

 native land after an absence of twenty years ; he passed the threshold 

 of his birth-place, but, alas, no one knew him ; new buildings were 

 erected on the spot where once stood his father's house ; strange and 

 unknown faces passed by him in the old and familiar streets. Exhausted 

 he sat down on a stone in the market-place, and big, heavy, tear- 

 drops rolled down his cheeks. The church-door of the Dominican 

 convent, where he w' as first educated, was open ; he entered it, and 

 compared the days he had passed here, with those spent in the wide 

 world ; he felt also the influence of the heavenly peace which reigned 

 around, and which seemed to beckon and invite him to adore it. His 

 rage gave place to a deep sentiment of melancholy : he knelt down 

 before the altar, laid his burning forehead on the step, and wept 

 bitterly. 



In this state the sacristan reminded him that it was time to quit the 

 church. Alas ! the prayer hung on IMiranda's lips, rather to shew him 

 a quiet cell in this peaceful cloister ! but he had not power to utter it, 

 and went away. The moi-e forcibly did the remembrance of the wild 

 career of his youth ta]ve possession of his mind, the more rapidly did 

 the frightful storm of passion subside, which had driven him above the 

 world and kept his mind in constant agitation. The next day he 

 walked back to the convent church, he entered just as they were 

 reading masses for the dead, and heard the priest utter the names of 

 his parents. He saw their menacing spirits pass by him. He thought 

 their curses pursued him, and determined on leading a life of penitence. 

 He hastened to the abbot of the convent, made known who he was, and 

 gave himself up as a criminal and a repentant child to punishment. 

 He obtained pardon, and after a short noviciate, at his ovm request, was 



