aid of words, but too sufficiently manifest! At length, breaking silence, and rising in scorn from her seat: "Have I not promised myself to you?" she whispered indignantly, "that you thus persecute me for the performance of a voluntary vow? Do you think your protestations can move, and your arguments persuade? Am I a timid girl, who turns from your suit bashful or alarmed? Or am I one grown old in crime, and utterly insensible to its consequence?—Nothing, you well know, can make me yours but my own free will; and never shall that will consign me to such fate, till the sickly weed is destroyed, and the fair and flourishing plant restored to its wonted vigour and due honors. See there, there is the image of my brother, of all that is glorious and lovely." As she spoke, she pointed to Buchanan. . . . "Lady, the deed is already done! This night," said the Italian, trembling in every limb, "yes, on this fearful night, I claim the performance of
