silence, deep, dreadful as the silence of the tomb, succeeded. Matilda heard a noise—footsteps were distinguishable, and, looking up, a flash of vivid lightning disclosed to her view the towering form of Zastrozzi.
His gigantic figure was again involved in pitchy darkness, as the momentary lightning receded. A peal of crashing thunder again madly rattled over the zenith, and a scintillating flash announced Zastrozzi's approach, as he stood before Matilda.
Matilda, surprised at his approach, started as he addressed her, and felt an indescribable awe, when she reflected on the wonderful casualty which, in this terrific and tempestuous hour, had led them to the same spot.
"Doubtless his feelings are violent and irresistible as mine: perhaps these led him to meet me here."
She shuddered as she reflected: but smothering the sensations of alarm which she had suffered herself to be surprised by, she asked him what had led him to the forest.
"The same which led you here, Matilda," returned Zastrozzi: "the same influence which actuates us both, has doubtless inspired that congeniality which, in this frightful storm, led us to the same spot."
"Oh!" exclaimed Matilda, "how shall I touch the obdurate Verezzi's soul? He still despises me—he declares himself to be devoted to the memory of his Julia; and that although she be dead, he is not the less devotedly hers. What can be done?"
Matilda paused; and, much agitated, awaited Zastrozzi's reply.
Zastrozzi, meanwhile, stood collected in himself, and firm as the rocky mountain which lifts its summit to heaven.
"Matilda," said he, "to-morrow evening will pave the way for that happiness which your soul has so long panted for; if, indeed, the event which will then occur
