only that he for whom I am abandoned was unworthy."
As he uttered these words, the frenzy of passion for one moment shook his frame. Calantha in terror snatched his hand. "Oh, hear me, hear me, and be merciful!" she cried, throwing herself before his feet.—"For God's sake hear me." "The injury was great," he cried: "the villain was masked; but the remembrance of it is deep and eternal."
He struggled to extricate his hand from her grasp: it was cold, and trembling. . . . "Calm yourself," he at length said, recovering his composure: "these scenes may break my heart, but they cannot alter its purpose. I may see your tears, and while under the influence of a woman I have loved too well, be moved to my own dishonour. I may behold you humble, penitent, wretched, and being man, not have strength of mind to resist."
