gle person—O Matilda, it was himself!—I knew his appearance after so long an absence, and through the shadow of the night, as perfectly as if we had parted yesterday, and met again in the broad sun-shine! He guided his boat under the balcony, and spoke to me—I hardly know what he said, or what 1 replied. Indeed I could scarcely speak for weeping, but they were joyful tears. We were disturbed by the barking of a dog at some distance, and parted, but not before he had conjured me to prepare to meet him at the same place and hour this evening—but where and to what is all this tending?—Can I answer this question—I cannot–Heaven, that saved him from death and delivered him from captivity, that saved my father, too, from shedding the blood of one who would not have blemished one hair upon his head—that heaven must guide me out of this labyrinth. Enough for me the firm resolution, that Matilda
