my years; in those he afterwards made me, I discovered him to be master of so many perfections, that though my vow and inclinations hound me to Lorenzo, I could not help thinking, that I might have been infinitely happy in such a husband. In a word, I had all the esteem and friendship for him that one can have for the most amiable and deserving brother: but this was not that fort of affection he wished to inspire me with, and he could not forbear complaining of my coldness, in terms the most moving that love and wit could form. A thousand times have I been about to let him into the secret of my soul, and generously confess, that I had unwarily bestowed my heart and faith before I knew the honour he intended me; had I done so, I might have saved that dreadful scene which too soon ensued. But shame, and the fear of being exposed to the indignation of my father, or rather my ill genius, would not suffer me to make this declaration, which alone could have been of service. For often since has count Caprera protested to me in the most solemn manner, that had he known the true state of my heart, he would have desisted hip suit, and chose rather to have been unhappy himself, than have made me so by an enforced marriage. But he, alas! was fir from guessing at the truth, nor had I power to inform him. But it was not so with my father. He had intelligence of the private meetings I still had with Lorenzo, and doubted not but it was the violence of my affection for him, that made me receive the adresses of the count with so little pleasure. I had till now prevailed on him to defer our marriage, under the pretence that time might make me enter into it with less reluctance. But he was no longer to be put off by these excuses; he knew too well my secret, and was resolved to disappoint whatever intentions I might have in favour of my passion. Coming one morning into my chamber with a sternness in his air and countenance, which, before he spoke, gave me to understand some part of my misfortune: Anziana, said
