FATAL SECRETS; ETHERLINDA deSALMONI. A SICILIAN STORY. BY ISAAC CROOKENDEN, AUTHOR OF THE MYSTERIOUS MURDER, &c. &c. ** How bounded are Man’s Delights compar’d To Woe's wide Empire, when deep Troubles toss, + Loud Sorrows howl, envenom’d Passions bite, Ravenous Calumities our Vitals seize, And threatening Fate wide opens to devour.” Dr. Youne. LONDON : PRINTED AND PUBLISHED, BY J. LEE, HALF-MOON- STREET, BISHOPSGAT® WITHOUT: AND SOLD BY ALI THE BOOKSELLERS, = 1806. DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Treasure Room « DEDICATION TO MADAM * * * ** ## ¥: WHEN T tell you that the object of this dedication is a lady of distinguished beauty, virtue, sense, anc exalted piety, your natural and unassumed modesty will have no conception that I mean yourself. I do but echo the opinion of all who are happy enough to come within the circle of uour acquaintance, when I say that it is not possible to retreat iim he presence without being delighted with your affabi- lity and instructed by your conversation. Two reasons have induced me to: deprivé myself of the pleasure of planting your respectable sig- nature at the head of this address : The first is, that (asthe reader may pips by the exordium ) it is made without your permission, oF knowledge: The second is, that I would not wish the public to think you are, in general, a lotr of this species of composition, which I be- liewe you are not. You know that Novels and Romances too often inoculate the heart for the admission of the virulent matter of in- . Aéinnatory desires, which frequently break out into an eager pur- suit of unlawful pleasure: nay, even the moral countenance may be somuch ruptured as to require the nauccous, but wholesome medicine = - a ; bi of legal discipline.* But you have too Justice to condemn every . book: which is called a Romance, merely because some Romances are reprehensible. Indeed,it has been thought by sommpgrinent critics that these familiar histories are the most proper vehicles to convey moral instruction; because the entertaining form in which they a, Paes en- gages the reader's interest ; he follows the chief personage thro’ are- — gular series of events, till he leaves himon the summit of his wishes, or plunged in final disappointment. In either case, it is the duty of the Novelist to afford matter sufficient Sor the extracting of a solid moral: he ought to shew, by example, the pernicious fects of giving the reins to. our passions : Virtue aud Vice should appear in their na- tive dresses of genuine loveliness, and unvarnished deformity, that the youthfnl reader might be equally allured by the smiles of the one, end deterred by the frowns of the other. —Trust, Madam, that, while composing the following pages, I have not lost sight of Wise zmportant ~ oljects—aliho I readily confess they are unworthy of being explored | by such an eye as ycur's, yet, should you cagneserna to peruse them, yout will, I hope, seenothing that can wound be esteem, with which I sometimes dare to think you honor, Madam, _ Your humble servant, ~~ I: CROOKENDEN, ' ’ * Witness the affair of the Marquis of H. and Lady S. INTRODUCTION. 'O introduce Truth under the agreeable Mask of Fiction; to array Virtue and Vice in their proper Habiliments; to entertain the Fancy without debilitating the Judgment; and to delineate the Passions without de raving the ffeart; are allowed, on all Sides, to be Objects of the most extensive Utility ? which Objects we propose to embrace in our ROMANTIC LIBRARY. Universal Experience has demonstrated that the Mode we have chosen in which to convey Moral Instruction, is, of all others, the most eligible 5 the Reason is plain: For nothing is more. certain, than that the human Mind is actuated by an insatiable Thirst after Novelty: the origin of this Thirst is Curtosity; hence the prodigious Number of Books of Fancy, which are daily read with such eager Delight. This Taste is universal,and consequently natural. Since,therefore, Novels and Romances will be read, an Author who wishes to tnstruct his Readers, is no more culpable for writing them, than a Physician for giving his Patient a Medicine out of a certain fashionable Cup, merely because he will not take it in any other. Independent of this, ‘* the entertaining Form in which these famihar His- tories appear, insensibly engages the Reader’s Attention: he follows the prin ipal Personages througha regular Series of Events, till he leaves them either plunged in final Disappointment, or seated on the sum- mit of Happiness.” Another Recommendation of this Species of Writing,under proper Re- gulations, is, that by its Scenes of unmerited Distress, which so frequent- ly occur, it opens allthe Avenues of Benevolence in the Heart,engages the Reader on the Side of distressed Beauty, fills his Soul with virtuous Indig- Nation against the tyrannical Usurper of another’s Rights, or the insiduous Betrayer of defenceless Innocence. Ina Word,it makes.a proper use of his own Passions, and directs them to their true Objects: for Instance, it con- fronts his Hatred with injustice; places his Pity on injured Mevit, fixes his Admiration on laudable Actions, and secures to virtuous Innocence all the Energies of his Love. Here Vice, notwithstanding its palliating Dis- guises, and intricate Mazes, is dragged out of its obscure Recesses, and ex- hibited in all the hideousness of its naked Deformity. While Virtue, altho’ for a time crushed by the Foot of Malice,or bending under the Hand of Oppression, rises at length like a triumphant Phania out of the Ashes of unmerited Contempt,aud (if we may continue the Com; arison) towers into Fame upon the strong Pinions of its own worth.—W ith regard to the Work, it will contain almost all (if not altogether) Original Pieces, wri- ten on purpose for it, and, therefore, we entertain not a Doubt, but Success will impress its undeviating Footsteps on this our laudable Un- dertaking. °Tis true the Task is Herculean ; but we pledge ourselves to accomplish it in every possible iota. Search the whole of the Metropolis, and you will find that no one Periodical Publication of Novels and Ro- mances have given you all or even one-half Originals. This is not the Case with us: as we have promised, so we shall perform: and sharp- sighted Readers can easily detect us if we donot. This coniident Appeal to our Superiority, we shall support by the following Circumstance, which will serve at once for an Argument of our Veracity, and a Conclu- sion toour Address: viz. We have converged from all, Points our /i- terary Rays, and intend to throw them out from one splendidFocus, which we call, THE ROMANTIC LIBRARY! ; > ae BHO : qqsiG i Too ¥ 4 “ae FATAL SECRETS: OR, Etherlinda de Salmoni. ” THe lady Theodora de Beraldi was a Sicilian by birth, descend- _ _ ed from a very antient and honorable family, and had married a yorny nobleman equally as much the favorite of nature and for- tune as herself. . A little more than three years after their nuptials, Count Be- raldi left his lady at home, and went to pay a visit to one of his estates, which was situated a considerable distance, at a place called Boswell Banks. He remained there so long that his lady began to be alarmed at his delay; not that she was left alone in the castle; on the contrary, a young man, cousin to the Count, resided in his family, and was at that period deceiving the ennuz, which the Countess experienced at the long absence of her hus- band. ‘The name of this cousin was, Ricardo: his-dissipation, in his younger days, had heen so great, that his father had resented his conduct so much as. to forbid him his presence. ‘To save him from ruin, Cowut Beraldi took him as a companion for himself. Ricardo will make a considerable figure in this history ; and, as to his-character, it will, 1 doubt not, gradually unfold itself in those actions, which I hope will excite my reader's detestation. 10 et SSeS ia This man was discoursing with the anxious Countess, and en- deavouring to persuade her that no accident had detained her husband that was a just ground for her fears: ‘* Probably,” said he, ‘* the Count bas found the castle in a worse state than he ex- . pected, and that his presence is necessary for some time longer to regulate the repairs. Cease then, my lovely cousin, to yield to eauseless sorrow.” As he said this, he respectfully took the Countess’s hand. Tt is natural for an ingenious mind to act in conformity to itself: the Countess possessed such a mind: the last words of Ricardo cailed upon her gratitude: she inyolun- tarily prest his hand, and turned upon him a look which seemed to say,—I understand you; you are seeking to seothe my aftlic- tion, and Tam 3 grateful for your kindness. What a pity it is that the human heart should extract poison from the purest motives, from the most undesigned actions ! _ This behaviour (I mean the glance and pressure) was quite innocent on the part of the Countess, who little imagined she had laid the foundation of her own dishonour, and her hushand’s ruin: many arandom glance has brought home wanton wisher to the heart. It may well be said, that great events sometimes hang on little causes: for one, this innocent imprudence of the Coun- tess hangs almost all the incidents of this history.’ I speak this . to warn my fair readers to be on their guard against giving the least indiscreet indulgence to the other sex ;’4s there is no know- ‘ing the fatal consequences that may ensue. You see that this book is not written to enlist the passion in the cause of vice: God forbid! on the contrary, it is designed to draw you from the fatal precipice, and-allure your feet into the path. of virtue; despise my pen when it invites you to drink of the enchanted cup of fashionable depravity; pour floods of merited contempt on my literary labors, whenever I dress up vice in fascinating accomplishments. I doubt not, but I shall -be able to entertain your fancy without the introduction of such circumstances as would have a tendency to deprave your heart : the omission of which will, I hope, be very far from: being deemed a defect. And now to go on with our story. aaa Had the unconscious Countess given only the glance, it might, perhaps, have only produced a few improper wishes; but the pressure overpowered Ricardo’s virtue, and lighted up: a flame of libidinfous desire in his heat. Ee imagined he had discovered the temper of the Countess’s soul; and, as he viewed her actions through the contaminating medium of his own depravity, it is no wonder that he began to fancy she had a growing affection for himself. He trembled, sighed deeply, and was upon the point of making adeclaration, which would have ruined him in the Countess’s esteem; buf, just in the very instant when he was going to utter it, the long-expected Count made his appear- ance. ‘The lady, conscious of the purity of her mind, discovered no guilty surprise at the sudden entrance of her husband; but welcomed him with the greatest joy. Ricardo endeavoured to hide his confusion, and he tco well succeeded: for lady Beraldi was too much interested in her husband's arrival to notice ought else; and the Count seemed to have secrets of his own to attend to. *t Ah, Count,” said Ricardo, ‘‘ 1 am heartily glad to see you, at last; your lady has been in agonies, thinking you were lost: T assure you I have had enough to do to persuade her you would come home in safety.” Vhus did this hypocritical wretch welcome him home while he secretly curst him for interrupting his wicked designs on ‘his wife :—I wish this picture of Ricardg suited but one original. The Countess took notice that herhusband was absent and thoughtful; and she became convinced, by his manner, that there was some secret lodged in his heart. She took an opportunity, when alone that evening, tenderly to enquire concerning this subject ; but he seemed displeased at the question, and yet treated it with lightness, as if no such secret uneasiness existed as that question supposed. ‘Thus silenced, the atHicted Countess held her peace, and sought other innocent blandishments to withdraw his mind from the subject of his secret meditations, and fix them on his domestic concerns. They had a fine boy of nearly three years, who, through the address of the Countess, would some- times charm the attention of the Count from dwelling on his own 12 thoughts, which, whatever they were, certainly had a tendency to make him melancholy. About a fortnight after this, the young Ormando’s birth-day © came round, and the castle became a scene of festivity. Ricardo alone was discontented on the occasion; but he had too much art to let it appear. He was indeed sorry that the Count had any child, as he knew such a circumstances would interfere with his ambitious designs. However, he dressed his face with smiles, and drank health and long life to the young heir with great spirit, considering that he fervently wished him annihilated. It was about two months after this convivial assembly, that the Count received a letter, which occasioned new disquietude to his mind. He told his lady that his presence was immediately ne- cessary at Boswell Banks, as the late high winds had done consi- derable damage to the new repairs. He then went into bis library, and perused the letter attentively to himself, after which he wept; but, while indulging his sorrow, the voice of his lady struck his ear just by the library door ; and hastily endeavouring to put the letter in his pocket, he dropped it unknowingly on the ground, and instantly left the library. He met his lady just - going in, and was making room for her to pass, but she stopped on seeing him. ** Why, my dear Crmando, do you absent your- self from me ; do you not think that I wish¢o have all yeur com- pany before you depart this second time.” rz A mind that yet retains virtuous principles, although its prac- tice might have been unhappily shipwrecked, will naturally feel a pang at undeserved kindness: so it was with the Count: the tenderness of his wife tortured him ; he was half-determined not to leave the castle; two principles seeiied combating for the mastery in his breast; but his evil genius at last prevailed, and he departed. He pursued his way toward Boswell Banks for some miles; but coming to a common, he struck across it, -making directly towards another of his estates, called Water Beach Castle, ow- ing to its vicinity to the sea, In the mean time, the letter containing the fatal secret, con- t 13 cerning the Count's late mysterious conduct, lay on the floor in ‘the library just as he had dropped it. Ricardo had an un- reserved access to to this place, and, indeed, shared in all the other entertainments of the Count. , He walked into the library one day, and almost instantly dis- covered the letter: he saw that it was directed to Count Beraldi, consequently he himself had no business with it; but Ricardo was not the man to listen to ¢he dictates of honor. He read it without scruple; and as the arch fiend rejoiced over the ruin of our first parents, so did he triumph in this proof of Ormando's fallen virtue. As soon as he had concluded it; ‘‘ So, my virtu- ous cousin!” said he, ‘* you have proved yourself to be flesh and blood at last, like all the rest ofus: I wonder how your lady will _ Yelish this pill” Ricardo had Jately noticed the Count to have been very re- served and thouvhtful, and sometimes melancholy ; he had now before him the instrument which unlocked all these mysteries. This wretch still retained his licentious passion for the Coun- tess, neither did he once endeavour to overcome it; but eagerly longed for an opportunity of satisfying his utmost wishes, and now he imagined he had found one. His vanity told him that — the Countess was in love with him; and as for her unembarrassed : behaviour on the entrance of her husband, he looked upon it ak ; a master-piece of hypocrisy. After some consideration, he’ re- solved to leave the fatal paper just where he had found it, not doubting that it would soon be discovered by the unfortunate Theodora. That lady the next asl went to the library to indulge herself a few hours in reading, a diversion that she was extremely fond of. Seeing a paper on the floor, directed to her husband, she, with all the unsuspecting innocence imaginable, opened it; but - (to use the words of Dr. Young on a similar occasion) ” scarce , was it unfolded to her sight, when she, as if an arrow pierced. her eye, started, and trembling dropped it on the ground.” However she soon took. it up again; but, before she had read half the contents, a sickness assailed her very heart; she stag- : é B - 14 gered to. a Grecian sofa, which stood on one side of tlie window, and fainted away. In this situation she was discovered by Ricardo; one hand grasped the fatal paper, the other hung motionless by the side of the couch, on which she herself remained ip a state of insensi- bility. _ Ricardo instantly. summoned the domestics, and by ap- plying proper remedies, she recovered the use’ of her senses. Having ordered all her seryants from her,—‘‘ Oh, Ricardo!” said she, ‘I am, at thismoment, the most miserable of women; my Count, my, dear Count/is false!” ‘* Uphold me, heaven!” exclaimed Ricardo, in feigned ‘horror. <‘ He’s false, Ricardo! he's false!” repeated the agonised Countess, bursting into tears. Ricardo entreated her to be composed, and assured her he would go to Boswell Banks, tell the Count she ‘was ill, and bring him to the castle. Meantime the afflicted Theodora grew quite in- disposed, and the whole management of the castle was resigned into the hands of Ricardo ; who, under one pretence or another, gradually dismissed all those domestics whom he had reason to think would remain incorruptible;-and filled their vacant places with creatures of his own; the others he bought ever to his in- terest with argument made up, not of logical reasoning, (for these it is probable they did not understand) but of solid gold. But something else was to be done before he could secure him- self: the Count might come home and frustrate all his ope- rations. He, therefore, departed instantly for Boswell Banks, to bring home the Count: so indeed he told the Countess; but he had no such intention, He wished, on the contrany, to secure his person, Jest otherwise the designs he harboured should be rendered abortive. To-Boswell Banks therefore he directly proceeded; but when he had reached it, he understood that the Count had not been. there since his return home. Ricardo seemed greatly surprised at this intelligence; from which it appears evident that the con- tents of the letter, whatever it might reveal, did not divulge the place where he kept his imamorata. However, he pursued his way to Water Beach Castle, in hopes that he should there meet the object of his search: the event answered his wishes. - ie ® ok He reached the castle about dusk, and was no sooner certain that the Count was actually there, than he went intoa large wood, about two miles distant, and, coming to a place where grew a thick clump of trees, he gave'a private signal, when, in'a moment; voices sounded below, a trap-door opened, and he descended into a subterranean apartment, and soon ‘stood in ‘the midst of a number of desperadoes, who bailed him’ as their captain. «I shall want four of the stoutest of you, to execute a piece of service for me,” said Ricardo, as soon as he appeared: and having pitched upon those whont he thought best suited to the enterprize, he revealed unto them the plan of operations. They were ordered to attack the Count, and take him prisoner, when he should leave the castle in his way home; and, that they might not fail for want of numbers, Ricardo himself resolved to be of the party. After this arrangement, he went directly to the castle and appeared suddenly before the Count, whom he discovered on a sofa, in conversation with a female.’ Confusion flushed his cheek as soon'as he saw Ricardo, and he instantly rose in evi- dent anger. Ricardo assumed a humble deportment, and told the Count that he had. something of great importance to com- municate. They directly retired into a back parlour, where Be- raldi was informed that his wife was dangerously iil, and wished very much to see him, ‘The apt conscience of the Count flew in his face: he prepared without delay to ‘depart; but Ricardo set out directly, and by this means the Count was but too success- fully intercepted in his journey. Ue fought desperately, but was at length overpowered by numbers. When they had taken him, they, according to the secret direttions of Ricardo, con- yeyed him to the dungeons under the castle,’ and having se- cured him properly, they returned to their other nefarious occu. pations, These desperadoes were a party of robbers, who infested this part of Sicily, under the secret guidance of Ricardo, who had gradually collected this band of villains to serve his own de- * signs. . B2 16 ———_, When Ricardo reached the castle, he found the Countess ra- - ther better; but the information he thought proper to give her respecting her husband, soon threw her into a relapse. Ricardo now began to open his designs; but the unhappy Countess no sooner discovered them, than she was struck with horrible asto- nishment. She thought now that she comprehended the whole of Ricardo’s treachery ; and even believed the letter directed to Ormando was forged. The villain saw that he never should pre- vail with fair speeches, and therefore he resolved, if possible, to break her spirit by confinement; and to this end, he had her con- veyed toa private apartment: her infant was barbarously sepa- tated from her, and every means used to induce the ae Tady to consent to her own dishonor. Many were the pangs her heart sustained on being debarrad? > the company of her innocent child; sometimes she was almost. - teady to murmur at Providence; but shechecked this disposition, ~ and prayed for resignation to the divine will: **O, my God!*~ said she, “ forgive my unwary tongue; and let me, instead of ¥, murmuring at thy dispensations acquiesce in them. “Thou . knowest the sorrows I endure: thou seeth the pangs to which the treachery of a pretended friend has given birth. O, merciful — God, do thou protect my child!” (Here the Countess wept bit- terly.) «‘ Thy omniscient eye piercest the recesses of futurity : thou seeth the miseries that are laid up forme; but O! do thou rear ts tender mind in the pursuit of Virtue: let him never . depart from its dictates; but lead him by thy unerring spirit through the chequered scenes of human life, ‘till he arrives at those regions of unsullied felicity which bloom immortally in the skies.” ; _ After this pious prayer, the Countess grew more composed ; but her health gradually declined. Ricardo noticing this, was tearful of losing his prey, and therefore brought her child te her; whom she no sooner saw, than she abandoned herself to joy- ‘*Ob, my child! my blooming boy! doI once more be- hold you.” She pressed him to her heart, and could not help thanking Ricardo for his kindness. ‘If you would secure that kindness,” said he, ‘* you will no longer oppose my passions 17 ——aS ; who first taught my heart to beat at your presence? not I, but nature. Cease then, lovely Countess, to bebold me with anger : consider your wrongs in another quarter, and nobly revenge them in the arms of one, .who will make your happiness his whole study.” . This was certainly a gross insult to a married woman; but, though the Countess repulsed him as. firmly as before, she did not do it with so much sternness; as she could not forget that Ricardo had given her the child again, and this softened ber re- buff to his lewd request without enfeebling it. ‘Oh, Ricardo! said she, ** do not wound my ears with such an unchaste pro- posal: let me persuade you no longer to cherish a guilty passion 5 but return to the paths of virtue, and every thing shall be buried in oblivion.” “Ricardo, however, left the room with a resolution * to act in a direct contrary manner to this salutary advice. The Countess was not long suffered to have her child; for, “having continued to repel his addresses, she was soon bereft of “the young Ormando. It was a heart-breaking sight to behold her agonies while the child was torn from her arms ;’ and, when ~he was no more to be seen, she fell down in a swoon. Ricardo’s cruelty, however, ‘did pot effect his purpose ; for, after underguing an acute scene of anguish, the unhappy Coun- tess was found one morning dead on her bed. Thus did Proyi- dence pity her sufferings, and wafted her to the regions of bliss, hefore the wretch, Ricardo, had defiled her beauteous person. That villain now reigned sole master of the castle; and he now took home the female child of a young girl whom he had seduced; but where the mother was no one could tell; unless the pro- grces of this history should discoverther. The name: of this child was Etherlinda, and she was brought up as the rightfal heiress of the castle, while the real heir, I mean the young Ormando, was educated as an orphan, wholly dependant on Ricardo, There is no doubt but the latter had his secret rea- sons for bringing up the children in these erroucous notions: reasons which, perhaps, we may discover before we con®lude BS 18 this.story. At present, we shall take a view of Ricardo's con- duct in that affair, in which Etherlinda is concerned Ata short distance from the castle, stood the seat of the Mar- quis Salmoni, a nobleman who had been born to an immense estate; but gaming, that destructive vice, had swept away the bulk of his great fortune: though he pursued it a considerable time with almost Persian eagerness, yet he at length plainly saw that, unless he retracted in time, his wife and child, as well as himself, must sink into irretrievable ruin and disgrace. Justly alarmed at this dreadful prospect, he listened to the suggestions ef reason; and, collecting the wreck of his property, retired from the scene of his extravagance to the only landed estate that he was now possessed of. At first he enjoyed little or no happiness ; his former folly and extravagance preyed on his mind, and dashed the cup of felicity from his lips. His wife was a lady of the most engaging man- ners, and yet more remarkable for her piety than her beauty ; of which latter, however, she had more than a common share. She was a lady of much good sense, which she had improved by an accurate, as well asan extensive reading; she gaye a strict regard to every conjugal duty, discharging those duties in a manner that perhaps was impossible to be exceeded. However this lady might have been grieved at the former folly of her hus- band, she never once forgot her place; she had taken an oath to act in every thing as a wzfe, and she preserved it inviolable, al- though the poor Marquis had broken his. if every female could say the same, what a delightful world should we have! But, though the Marchioness never assumed the Empress, nor arraigned her husband's conduct, yet she would. often endeavour to allure him back to the path of virtue, and’ many times in secret did she weep over his frailties. ‘The Mar- quis became now fully sensible of the excellences of his wife, and he was seized with pangs of remorse when he reflected that he had injured her by fquandering away such sums at the faro tables. eae fle had not been many months in this retreat, before the con- \ 19 jugal tenderness of his lady began to heat the wounds which his former follies had inflicted in his mind. Thus years glided away on wings of down, till the daughter had attained: the dangerous age of sixteen, when some circumstances took place, which after- wards proved of the most fatal consequence to herself and family. j One evening she har strolled a little way from the castle to enjoy the fine effects of Sicilian scenery: the celestial concave seemed: like one immense arch of shell-work, occasioned by a prodigious large cloud, cut as it were into innumerable and curve-like intersections ; this appearance, however, was as tran- sient as it was beautiful:—the cloud separated by degrees, and assumed a variety of other forms. A prospect of the ocean ter- minated the sight; and the sun, which was at that instant set- ting, threw a long line of radiance over its bosom. Alicia, which was the name of this young lady, watched the progress of his departing beams as she sat on a small emimence, on one side of which ran an high thick hedge, and om the other an extensive field which had just yielded the hushandman a plentiful crop. While: Alicia was contemplating these objects, a fowler dis- charged his piece on the other side of the hedge, and startled her so, that she gave an involuntary shriek. Instantly a young man darted through the hedge to see what was the matter; and under- standing the cause of heralarm, he apologized in a polite manner for being the unintentional author of it. She treated her fright as Very trivial, and‘ said she should be sorry for him to intermit his pleasures to attend to her. Instead of being discouraged at this, our sportsman looked upon it as female artifice and a fair challenge to see her on her way home. j This man had studied dove scientifically—not to adore the won- ders of nature; but to explore the secret mazes and to trace the windings of the female heart. Fle knew the plan of operat.ons ne- cessary for seduction. As the evening began to darken, Ricardo, (for it was no other than him) entreated to have the honor of accompanying Alicia home; “ There is no necessity for that, Signor ; 1 would not wish 20 to take vou out ef yoarway : it is rather dark to be sure, but, in- deed, Lam not afraid.” Such an answer was quite suflicient for Ricardo, and he had now nothing to do but to represent the dan- ger of going alone: in short, ke gained his point, and she per- mitted him to attend her. : During the walk, there was a silence on ‘both sides, "till they stopt at her garden-gate. ~She did not ask him in, and he thought he perfectly understood the reason. She thanked him for his pro- tect'on, and told him she was now arrived at herhome. Ricardo hesitated a moment, and at length said, ‘* he hoped he should one day see her again: and asked her to favor him swith her name. Alicia endeavoured to concealasigh. ‘* Hush!” said she, drawl- . ing ont the word, tho’ she uttered it in a whisper, ‘¢ we may be) over-heard,” and she looked into thegarden, ‘‘ my christian name is Alicia; but my f family name I must beg, af-present, to keep a secret.” Ricardo bowed, as a token of submission. After ether conversation, in which Ricardo obtained admission to see her secretly near the place where they had met: they part- ed, and Alicia kept this adventure a profound secret from her parents. Had she made her mother her confidant, it would in all probability have prevented her ruin: how many females are lost thro’ the same indiscretion! yet, at the same time, how blameable are parents to make known their children’s follies. to the world; for, by a repetition in their ears of their juv enile indiscretions they frequently become calous: \gpereas, if their faults were hidden, they probably would not fall into similar errors! O gentle reader, if you are a father or mother, or if neither, perhaps you may be— therefore, remember this timely admonision, which will probably alleviate your mind should you ever be so unfortunate. Many were the interviews these clandestine lovers had, before poor Alicia's virtue feil a prey to lawless desires. While some seducers execute their wicked purposes by stupifying the senses of their wretched victims by somniferous drugs; and while others impose on the unhappy victim by a fictitious marriage: Ricardo adopted a different method: he determined to work on her reason. and passions alternately. He represented himself under the aur 21 thority of a domineering father, who had destined him to the arms of a lady of great fortune: ‘ They all think sheis very beautiful,” said he, “and so did I, till lsaw my Alicia.” ‘Thus did this art- ful villain address her vanity, which he well knew was the first passion of the female heart. When Alicia heard his last words she heaved an amorous sigh, and looked at him with a pair of blue eyes which emitted an unconscious stream of dewy light. In this manner Ricardo proceeded to address all her other pas- sions, till, in an unhappy moment, the honor of Alicia fell a fatal sacrifice to his villainy. Anew and deplorable consequence soon ensued: poor Alicia discovered herself ina state of gestation, Shame induced her to abandon her home, and she was provided by Ricardo, with an obscure retréat, whereishe brought Etherlinda into the world. The fondness of a mother, and those delightful maternal offices which they take such pleasure in discharging, compensated in some measure for the sorrows she had undergone. However that wretch, Ricardo, had not done tormenting her: he gradually lessened the supplies he had been in the habit of send- ing her, ‘till he wholly discontinued them ; and, to give the finish- ing stroke to his barbarity, he cruelly deprived her of her infant. From this period the history of Alicia is involved in doubt and perplexity, and I could never learn her adventures till she arrived at Water Beach Castle. Having heard much of Count Beraldi’s benevolence, she sought his proteetion, by laying be- fore him her sorrowful history, without however disclosing her name, or that of her betrayer. The Count saw that she had been extremely beautiful, nay, was so now, only her misfortunes had deprived her of the exquisite tint of the rose from her cheeks, and placed that of the lilly in its stead. ‘The Count gazed at her so long that he lost sight of the duties of constancy ; and, know- ing that she had once deserted the path of rectitude, bis heart be- gan to conceive sentiments prejudicial to that influence which the Countess ought to have had over him. If Alicia had been an innocent virgin, the Count would not have dared to indulge those impure desires which now inflamed him; and, in this re- spect his character was essentially different from Ricardo’s, who, 29 we have secn, was such a monster as’ t6 lay a deliberate snare to _ destroy trusting virgin innocence. ~ The Count had often admived the beauty and virtue of other women without feeling inflammatory desires. One ciréumstance I shall mention, because it isa Bia that love and admiration are different passions. Among those that frequently visitedthe Countess, was a ido lady, called Signora Boncadi: she could not be Jess than thirty - five, though her. looks could not justify a guess beyond: ‘twenty= five. ‘The Count had often admired her for her beauty, sense, and » virtue; her very dress characterized the propriety and correctness of her mind. ; The reader will see, when I describe it, how fast the » English are verging towards the Sicilians in this article: A long muslin robe covered her person ; black silk jacket, with deep lace, very much like our spencer, surrounded her waist ; her edd was adorned with a light chip’ hat, tied’ under-her chin with a white ribbon, and meeting over that part which shaded her neck, formed a small bow in the middle; her hair was a light brown, itwas na- turally very long; but she braided it up, and by’ this means looked as well as any crop in England: If there is any beauty in heaven's blue arch, her eyes were exquisite, for they were of that colour; her features were equaiiy expressive of nobleness and softness, a very rare union. Piety formed a principal part of this lady’s character: how often has the Count observed the glow of devotion light up her eyes with a héaventy brillianey, and diffuse a sacred calmness over her beauteous face: In these moments the Count sighed he knew not for what; but, by a rigid scrutiny into his own heart, he found admiration was the only passion that lived there. After being used to view such a model of human excellence with the utmost purity of sentiment, Beraldi’s virtue was sacrificed at the shrine of Alicia's frail beauty: such is the emotion. that outside loveliness, ::naccompanied by inherent virtue, excites in the unguarded breast. When Ricardo- was at Water Beach Castie, he had but a su- ey 23 t ushininenemen! perficial view of Alicia, and was far from discovering who she was, till after the Count was imprisoned, when, while inspecting the apartments, he, to his great astonishment, found that Be- _ raldi’s inamorato was no other than that unfortunate woman, in the spoils of whose: virtue he had previously triumphed. His pride was hurt at this discovery; he hated the Count more than ever: and, as for Alicia, he now felt aversion overpower desire ; in short, he had the cruelty to confine her in a separate dungeon from the Count, where they both had sufficient leisure to bewail their msfortunes, or perhaps it would be more proper to say ¢- prudence: for, according to Dr. Johnson, the former word ge- nerally implies the latter; and certainly this was the case with respect to the two culprits. This account of Ricardo's iniquitous conduct was necessary to be related, in order to connect the history:'I shall now, there- fore, return to the two young inmates of Beraldi Castle,—Or- mando and Etherlinda. Being both brought up together a si- milarity of sentiment had begot and cemented a firm-grounded attachment, as well as a reciprocal esteem. In process of time, Nature commenced some of her deepest operations in their breasts; a new and mysterious feeling had touched the spring of their souls, and called forth their hidden sympathies: Ormando now could never look at her, but he emitted from his eyes an involuntary stream of dewy light, and his glance occasioned a sort of pleasing confusion, to which, till now, she had been a perfect stranger. - He had often been in the habit of taking her hand; but now such amagical sensation attended its touch, as imparted a new pulse to his nerves: in short, Ormando’s breast expanded with the most refined and delicate passion; her presence seemed his delight: Often of an evening, when the moon threw her silvery curtain over the reposing scenes of nature, did our lovers wander through romantic groves, while the ear was soothed by the mur- mur of water, and the eye by the sleeping landscape. Perhaps, in these luxurious moments, the soul touches that point of feli. city whiely it it impossible 'to exceed, while she confines her views merely to worldly objects! Ormando at least thought so; no mu- / 24 ERTS NT , sic so delightful to him as Etherlinda’s voice; no sight so beau- tiful to him as her face ; no raptures so exquisite as those he drank from her eyes$; no sensation so keen as those which his soul re- ceived from their darting beams: While with his beloved &the- linda, our hero s¢emed to enjoy a superior state of existence; a solemn joy pervaded his soul; the beaming moisture of their eye- balls shot into each other’s breasts reciprocal but indescribable emotions, aud by an unaccountable magic accelerated the motion of the heart, and touched the nerve, where extacy kept her seat, fixing an heart-felt emphasis on every sigh. As soon, however, as the youth was thoroughly let into the knowledge of his own heart, he opposed his passion by all the ar- tillery of reason, the more so, as he imagined Ricardo looked on it with disapprobation. He, therefore, began to absent himself from the company of Etherlinda, and bewail in solitude an at- attachment which he now considered as unfortunate, Several weeks passed away in this melancholy manner: the co- lour forsook Ormando’s cheeks; and his face assumed the pale li- very of concealed love; the natural brilliancy of his eye was su- perseded by an amorous sadness. Etherlinda saw, and was griev- ed at, the change of his behaviour; but had not courage to ask the reason, till accident revealed it: Early one morning Or- mando, being unable tosleep, arose with the dawn, and wander- ed into the beautiful environs of the castle: the fingers of Spring were busily employed in unfolding the infant buds; the feathered musicians opened a concert which made the grove echo with their ravishing strains, and, to use a fine expression of Milton, touched *« the hidden soul of harmony.” The eastern horizon was flushed with crimson, and in a few minutes the orb of day made a solemn entry on our hemisphere; diffusing life and energy through ail the departments of Nature. Ormando, in his ramble, came to an old tree, which had been torn up by arecent tempest: he contemplated its fallen honours with that sort of melancholy pleasure which we feel on viewing the ruins of any thing venerable. As he lifted his eyes from the tree, they fixed on an object, which turned his thoughts toa new . 95 channel imparted an involuntary trembling to his limbs, eom- municated quicker pulsations to his heart, and extracted a deep- drawn sigh from his breast.. I suppose I need not inform my reader that it was Etherlinda. She was.walking towards him with a slow meditative step, arrayed im what is usually denominated a morning dress; and that the reader may see Ormando had some excuse for his love, I shall give a sketch of those attractions which Nature had conferred on Etherlinda: She was rather tall, and lightly formed; she wore on her head a chip hat, over the crown of which appeared a piece of white muslin, emblem of the purity of its owner; her hair, which wasa fine light brown, fell in graceful ringlets over the clear surface of her forehead, and braided up behind: there was an inexpressible sweetness. in her eyes, to describe which I shall use a line of sacred poetry, and say they were ‘‘ tinged with a blue of heav'nly dye:” the features of ber-face were read/y such as are sometimes feigned by the wri-- ters of romance: they united all the majesty of the Roman, with the softness and ineffable attraction of the Grecian ; and at this period, owing to the melancholy of Ormando, a delicate lan- gour dwelt in her eyes, which rendered her face so touchingly lovely that the imagination of her lover could find.no comparison out of heaven to suit.the object which now stood before him. Ormando, overcome with his passion, could not restrain his bursting heart.—<** Etherlinda! sweet Etherlinda! you are for ever seen, and yet there is for ever something new in you to ad- mire: whatever attitude you assume, 1 would wish to fix you there, and gaze my soul away: how delicate the texture of this snowy hand! Each morn [light my very life at the blue radiance ot those eyes: how keen the transports my soul receives from’ gazing on that face. I delight to tread in your steps, and every’ action you perform acquires a nameless sacredness in my sight, merely because you was concerned in them. Oh, Etherlinda! how fierce the flames of real love! and how bitter the anguish at the thought of losing you |” _ Confused, and astonished at his last words, Etherlinda struggled in-Vain lo regain composure; she trembled exceedingly, and her C on os thoughts were in such a chaos of perplexity, that she could net utter a word. 4 Her lover, noticing her confusion, instantly converted it into an omen fatal to his love. ‘* I.see I have astonished you,” said he, ‘‘and perhaps, by this presumptuous declaration, I have lost that esteem with which you have honoured me: if so, y can sink no lower, and I am indeed miserable!” Etherlinda was more perplexed than before, on hearing these last words: delicacy prevented her from owning in plain terms that she loved him; on the other hand, she could not endure his despair. Her bosom was torn hy conflicting passions, and her frame being too delicate to support the violent struggle, she co- vered her face with her robe, burst into an involuntary flood of tears, and sunk into his arms. A trembling criminal, at the moment of entering into eternity, suddenly hearing of a reprieve, may suggest an idea of the joy which now fluttered in the breast of her lover ; despair instantly gave place to extacy ; he trembled with rapture; and, although her bosom stormed against his own with quick and violent heay- ings, so pure was his attachment that the mentaZ character of love greatly predominated over any senswad reflections. He was enamoured of Etherlinda not merely because she possessed a fine symmetrical shape and beautiful features ; but rather be- cause her mind was replenished with the rich treasures of fe- minine rectitude and christian piety. ‘Those who study the passion of love, ina philosophical manner, must know that it is always heightened by circumstances. Ormando’s loye received an additional degree of force from several circumstances, which at this moment united their energetic influence. He had been suddenly revived from despair to joy by the sweet conscious- ness that Etherlinda loved him: also the figure of the lovely maid received new enchantments from the noyel position in which it was exhibited. Her agitation had discomposed her dress; her hat had fallen off, and her flaxen tresses floated in the breeze; _her drooping head fell on the shoulder of her lover, whose trem- 27 bling arms enclosed her waist, and to whose dazzled sight the workings of her agitated bosom were partjally revealed: Etherlinda however soon became sensible of her situation, and instantly disengaged herself from it. She was conscious that she had now betrayed the secret of her heart, and she did not possess that prudery which was necessary to make her behave in such a manner as to contradict the recent invelumtary testimony she bad given of her affection. From this period our lovers had a mutual consciousness of the workings of each other's hearts: often would they ramble, on an evening, among the native wildness of Szczzan scenery, con- sume the flying hours in all the luxury of refined discourse, and in a mutual interchange of souls. The enamoured youth, who before could find diversion in the sports of the gun; the amusements of the lake ; the pleasures of the turf; and the studies of the closet; could now enjoy no feli; city abstracted from the company of Etherlinda. Her form and features were for ever present to his mind ; and the accent of her voice fell upon the ear of his soul, as the sweet whispers of an- gels on the heaven-prompt fancy of expiring saints. Ricardo, who had noticed for some time their growing affec- tion, now took Ormando aside, and spoke to him as follows :— *¢ J have observed, Ormando, that of late you are quite al- tered : how is it that you'no longer delight to ensnare the finny inhabitants of the lake; or hunt the shaggy monsters of the forest? Your neglected gun bespeaks an indolent sportsman ; the pleasures of the race-ground are forsaken; but what need I wonder at this, when even the pages of Livy, ‘Tacitus, and Ariosto charm no longer? Such a surprising metamorphosis as this, must have another origin than whim and caprice. ‘Ihave been told,” added he, fixing his eyes steadily upon the youth, ** there is but one passion capable of changing the nature of man, and that is—love!” The heart of Ormando instantly beat with a stronger impulse, and, after a short pause, Ricardo added : ‘¢ But sure you value my favor and protection too much to wish me to seek the origin of your mysterious transformation C2 ‘ 28 in the person of Etherlinda! By heaven, he’s silent!—he’s confused !—he trembles! Sure you have not dared to be par- ticular in your conversation with her? You will not answer, sir; but your countenance, like a faithful mirror, most legibly reflects the answer which conscience has written on your heart. f remember now many instances of your attachment: you al- ways commended the sentiments she uttered ; and, in company, | for ever contrived to sit either next to, or right opposite her, that you might, I suppose, under pretence of accident, indulge yourself in all the luxuries of the touch; or that you might deal mutual contagion from your soft, enamoured glances, dart from your eyes all your sympathetic souls into each other's breast: hence arose your innumerable deep-drawn sighs; the full empire of your heart, your involuntary restlessness, or artificial ease; and that general character of langour, which of- ten pervaded your countenance! Why, whata dupe I have been allthis time! Signor, youare guilty of insolence, meanness and ingratitude.” Will the astonished reader believe that this anger, on the part of j Ricardo, was all assumed! this was realiy the case: he knew that love gains strength in proportion to the difficulties which attend the possession of its object, and thus, by placing cbstacles in the way, inhanced the value of Etherlinda, and planted astronger de- sire in the soul of Ormando. ‘That young man having success: fully vindicated himself from the threefold charge brought against him by his supposed uncle, the conclusion of the whole was, that our hero should set out upon his travels, and if, upon his re- turn, he still retained his afiection for Ethe:linda, they should be united, upon condition that Ormando should perform some imi-_ ‘nent piece of service for his uncle ; hut what it was, he at present knew not. Human nature is alike all the world over, and it is as common in Sicily, as in England, for separating lovers to give each other little mementos of affection ; some trifle to keep them ina state of unhappiness by making them perpetually think ef, and sigh for, the beloved donor. 29 Agreeable to this ancient custom, Ormando presented his loved Etherlinda with a rich diamond ring, having the initials of his name engraved on it; and our heroine gave Ormando a valuable broach, in the center of which was platted a lock of her own light-brown hair, inshrined in glass. The gift of our hero took instant possession of Etherlinda’s snowy finger, and her donation was directly planted on Ormando’s enamoured breast. ‘The mo- ment of separation now arrived, when, amidst sighs tears, and heart-rending anguish, Ormando started from her embrace, and commenced his journey ina state of mind, which none of my rea- ders will envy From the highest window of the castle, Etherlinda sent forth her eager looks after her lover, and, while she could distinguish him | (as Shakespeare expresses it) by “hand, handkerchief, or glove,” those signals were interchanged between them, Etherlinda gazed from the window till distance confused the figure of her lover 5 in the next moment, it was wholly blended with the general land- seape ; she still gazed, but he was gone, and then (to use a line of Congreve) ‘‘ turned her eyes inward, and beheld him there.” However, when she found he was quite gone, she fellon asofa and gave way to her tears.. © We shall, at present, leave her quiet to indulge them, and ac- company our hero in his journey. Ele found a dreadful vacuum in his soul, now that his eye could no longer fix on his heloved - Etherlinda; from his bosom, her present made repeated visits to his lips, and, although he was riding through a delight- ful tract of country, the beauties of nature had at this moment entirely lost their charms: his vacant eye rolled over heaven's unclouded arch, strayéd through the smiling landscape, or con-. templated-some grand and elegant ruin with the same stoical apa= ~ thy. He was thus absorpt in his own reflections, till night had’ thrown her rayen-coloured mantle over the scene, and indicated "the necessity of seeking a temporary asylum. As he was pondering en this circumstance, the sound of a convent bell struck his ear, as it came rolling its mournful hurthen on the breeze. Guided cs s 30 eae “by the welcome sound, he, with some difficulty, arrived at a pair of ponderous gates, which inclosed the building: on ringing for admittance, a brother of the convent appeared, and understanding our hero was a benighted traveller, opened the gates with the greatest readiness. That night he met not only with agreeable accommodations, but past some hours in entertaining discourse with the man who let him in, by which our hero learned that he had been in an ex alted station of life; but having suffered severely from the storms of fate, had at length sought comfort in monastic seclusion — Ormando, however, did not discover, what was nevertheless true —that the person before him was Etherlinda’s grandfather. . The mysterious absence of Alicia de Salmoni had such an ef- fect on her mother, that she soon fell a victim to grief, and the distressed Marquis, unable to endure the anguish of his mind, sought comfort, not at the gaming-table; the assembly, or the turf, for all these he had tried before,) but where it was only to be found—in the bosom. of religion—which, though the last tried, has ever been found to be the never-failing solace of distressed hu- manity. ° Early in the morning, Ormando took leave of the old gentle- man without having the least suspicion of his real character: but the Marquis soon discovered the quality and name of our hero, by the following circumstance, which closes the history and life of this unfortunate nobleman. ; Tt is really surprising that such great events should hang on. such apparently trifling causes. Mention has been made of a letter that the Count received, and which he accidentally dropt im the library of Beraldi Castle: this letter came from Alicia de Sal- moni, and contained the fatal secret of the Count’s inconstaney. - Ricardo, who, it will he'remembered, was at this time ahsorpt - in his nefarious designs on the Countess, had forgot to secure it; and for seventeen years it had been thrust among some unimpor- tant papers, till Ormando discovered it the day before he com- menced his journey: ‘he colour of the paper, stained with age, or together with its extraordinary contents, induced him-to secure it, that he might peruse it at his leisure. However, he never had another opportunity to read it, for he accidentally dropt it in a a room in the convent, and it was found by the Marquis when our hero was fifty, miles off. The father of Alicia instantly knew -her writing, and his rapid eye, with surprise and anguish, ran over the following words: “To Count Beraldi, “ T look round in vain to see my belor ied Count? ah, how often do I fix my eye onthe vacant seat where you used to sit, and strive to collect your every attitude, and those dear engaging features which shed such tender benevolence when I applied to you to be my friend in my helpless state.—I told you that I had been the victim of a villain's perfidy, you pitied my six tuation, and sheltered me in your casile—Ah! why did you so? Jor tt was this kindness that begot gratitude in my soul, and gra- - titude soon ripened into love /—How often have you told me that you loved me, and not even Theodora herself should rival me in your heart*.—0O that name ! why did I mention it? and are you married then ? fatal certainty ! and must I yield you to another? tormenting thought! distraction! my swimming brainruns round! Owhere are you, my Beraldi ? unkind, cruel, and barbareus man! Ue you have been two ycars | from me !—what can detain you so 2— think you £ enjoy the exalted slate to which you have raised me, now you are absent ?—O no, no, the meanest peasant that labours on your estate is far more happier than me: for he is contented ; but can I be so, when I know my life, my looed Beralda is Hold my heart, turn, turn my fancy from the hated thought, lest my brain is fired with jealous rage, and wild distraction quench the spark of reason. ‘O, my dear Count ! if you saw at this mo- ment my disordered dress, avitated bosom, dishelvered hair, rising et * So far had the Countess read when she fainted away. + It was not three months since che had seen Beraldi; buta lover's calendar is very different from all others. a2 sichs, and streaming tears, know you would conipasiieduite mi distress, and comply with-my request when I ask you to fly to my longing ams. Shall I ecer again olserve those dear cyes wandering over my face, or shooting from their moist beams the darts of looe into my soul ?—IVill ycu azain make my heaving breast your delighted pillow, ?—I expect you will answer me ie personor you will etther hear of my death, or see me at Beraldt Castle. ——- This proof of his daughter's degeneracy. had sueh an effect on the Marauis, that he survived it buta month; but, good heaverr!. had he known her original seducer, his passage to the grave would have been clouded by horror and astonishment! _ Our hero had been a fortnight en his travels, when he was overtaken one night in the midst of an extensive forest by a vio- lent storm of thunder and lightening ; and, while striving as well as he could to shelter himself, he was attacked, and made pri- soner by a party of men whom he believed to be banditti. They conducted him to a castle, and he was ushered into a room, where the rest of the gang were regaling themselves ata banquet, which would not have disgraced the table of 'a prince. “They invited him to partake of it; but he refused, and demanded to know the reason of his cantivity. ‘They preserved a silence an that head, but yet used him with so much respect that he was astonished. The truth is, Ricardo, who had bis movements narrowly. watched fromn the day he left the cast'e, had ordered him to be taken | by his own gang, for reasons best known to himself. ; ‘Pwo days after his captivity Ricardo made his appearance, to the astonishment. of Ormando. - He dismissed the handitti from the castle, and ordered them to occupy their other retreat for a few days. He then spoke thus to our hero:—‘‘ Ormendo, you are doubtless astonished at seeing me; you never knew be- fore that 1 had such a castle as this, but we must not lose the time In discourse; if Etherlinda is yet dear to.yeu, follow me;. ae en for, on this night, you will either be entitled to her and all my estates, or else become a wretched outcast from society.” Amazed at his words, the youth followed him in silence down steep stone stairs. At the bottom he opened the door of a dungeon :—* ‘Take that,” said he, putting a dageer into his hand. (See the Plate.) The youth gazed on the fatal instru- ment with a kind of stupid surprise. As he advanced farther in the dungeon, he discerned a female chained to the wall: she looked to be between thirty and forty years of ave; her dress was disordered, and lier hair strayed in profuse negligence down her bosom. ‘* "Lis necessary that this woman should-die,” said Ricardo to our hero:—*“ Strike! and Etherlinda is yours!” These words were uttered ina whisper, that Alicia should not hear them; but Ormando no sooner understood the horrid con- dition annexed to the possession of her he loved, than, throw- ing down the dagger, he clasped his hands together in agony, and with a voice of despair, cried, ‘* Then fate has wrote my death! Oh, Etherlinda! you are lost to me for ever! which ever way I look, misery closes the hideous prospect My ‘* Etherlinda! what Etherlinda?” asked the captive lady, “« Speak, Ricardo, I charge you, is it—is it my child he means?” *¢ Your child!" said Ormando, ‘“ yes; it must be so; her > very features live in your face.” “ And you,” said she, “* can- not be any other than Beraldi’s son; the very image of my_ loved Count,” added she, sighing deeply, ‘beams from your | countenance.” a *« Your loved Count!” said Ricardo, ‘‘ shameless woman! you own then you love him?” “«« Yes, villain, Ido, because he is the reverse of you :—noble, generous, and brave ; not the sordid wretch, who, for a transient pleasure, would plunge a helpless, trusting-female in everlast- ing woe!” j The conscience of Ricardo flew in his face; he however exclaimed, ‘* Infamous strumpet! how dare you charge on me , *parallelled monster calis me 34 ers your guilt? are you not constitutionally depraved? witness your letter to Count Beraldi, that he accidentally dropped, and which I read.” “« Behold, O heaven! and avengemy wrengs! how the un- (1 will not name the word, be- cause [ am none) when he himself first seduced my innogence 5 and taught my beating heart to burst its virgin zone: tremble, thou, wretch, when f tell you that it is Alicia de Salmoni whom thou hast ruined: O! if my brother was alive, how thy cowardly: soul would shrink from his revenge!” No sooner was this name pronounced, than Ricardo turned as pale asashes, and stood as if transfixed with horror! coming a little to himself, he clapt both his hands to his temples, and looking round the dungeon with a stare of stupid surprise saying ‘** am I awake! did you really say your name was Salmoni? if so, bless me with deafness, heaven.” ‘ Villain, 1] did: Iam the daughter of the Marquis de Salmoni!” «‘Then my last hour is come!” said Ricardo, stabbing himself. He feil; and as the crimson tide fowed from his wound, he addressed his séster in these words: ‘*O Alicia! what a fatal secret have you divulged! what sad calamities flow from unbridled passion! how will you tremble when tell you that T also bear Salmoni’s name; [am that very brother whom you mention, atid Etherlinda is at once your child, and niece!” He had just strength to pronounce these words before he closed his eyes foreyer, and Alicia filled the dungeon with agonizing shrieks, Ormando, with some difficulty, released her from her confinement, and thro’ her means discovered his imprisoned father. The faded person of the Count renewed Alieia’s grief: but she had experienc- ed too much of illicit love to yield again to those impressions which Beraldi had naade on her heart. ste Before we go any farther, it will be necessary for us toaccount for the seemingly mysterious circumstance of Ricardo beingAlicia’s ‘brother, which was, alas! too true. When Ricardo, by a course of dissipation, had incenced his father, the Marquis de Salmoni, to that de ‘yree, as to procure his own final dismission, his sisters Aig My q SBD re was but ten yearsof age, and henineteen. Thus without any ind of restraint or limitation, be gave the reins to his er iminal indul- gencies, and the consequence was that his pecuniary resources were swept away, and sickness made formidable nroads on his constitution. : o In this deplorable situation, the generous Beraldi, -as we have seen, opened his castle toreceivehim, where he found an assylum from that horrible fate he had nearly brought on himself. In the mean time, the degeneracy of his son, had a visible effect onthe Marquis’s happiness; andat last precipitated him into those very vices for which the former had been excluded his paternal home. So inconsistent is human nature; and ‘‘so apt are we to condemn in others what We ourselves practise without scruple,” The Marquis, as we have before observ ed, collecting his scatter- ed property retired to a seat he had recently purchased in the vici- nity of Beraldi Castle; but they lived such a sécluded lite, that altho’ Ricardo found them out by means of seeing Alicia accident- - ally, yet he little imagined it was his own parents who resided there. As forAlicia, seven years had made such an alteration inher, being grown from a girlto a woman, that he had no conception she was his sister; and knowing the recent embarrassments of her father, asense of prudence induced her to conceal her family-name. Thus was the extent of their guilt, in the criminal indulgence of their passions, unknown, till, with amazement and horror, they came to the dreadful eclaircissement in the dungeons of Water Beech Castle. ® ; ‘The Count exulted in having sucha son as Ormando, and gave his full consent to his marriage with Etherlinda, as did likewise Alicia, who embraced her daughter with agonizing tenderness, em- ; " bittered however with horrible reflections. It is proper to inform the reader that Etherlinda never knew the sad circumstances of her birth; and her lover had too much justice to confound the in- nocent with the guilty, and too muchsense to think that moral evil can attach to any person where the w2//is not concerned. | Ether- linda was Etherlinda still, notwithstanding her origin: the errogy I er parents could not impugn her accomplishm ney er virtues. When she knew that, not she, but the young Count ED, OR Sas sreal heir of the Beraldi estate,she was rather Sens ne eee : ore than’eve ak re hat discov ery, because e she was no posed ey in oe catalogue of her vir 4 Alicia having seen them happily, married, re and spent the remainder of her days indeep:cor i ' eivors; and the old Count lived to see them aloom prow f geny; who bid fair to transmit to an admi osterity vies thtine : of their parents. Py ce pares . - - es ae A THEOEN Da! ost aa SS eee — - hee _ 4 3 s Z agi » . ig x Ei 32.5) Lee, Printer, Half Moon St. Bishopsgate. nis f a 2 oe