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him, and within reach of his voice, at the instant
when his food was supplied; some one perhaps
susceptible of pity. Or if not, to be told even that
his apprehensions were just, and that his fate was
to be what he foreboded would be preferable to a
suspense which hung upon the possibility of his
worst fears being visionary.
The night came ; and as the hour approached
when Vivenzio imagined he might expect the signs,
he stood fixed and silent as a statue. He feared to
breathe, almost, lest he might lose any sound
which would warn him of their coming. While
thus listening, with every faculty of mind and body
strained to an agony of attention, it occured to him
he should be more sensible of the motion, probably,
if he stretched himself along the iron floor. He
accordingly laid himself softly down, and had not
been long in that position when—yes—he was
certain of it—the floor moved under him! He
sprang up, and in a voice suffocated nearly with
emotion called, aloud. He paused—the motion
ceased—he felt no stream of air all was hushed—
no voice answered to his—he burst into tears ; and
as he sunk to the ground, in renewed anguish, exclaimed,—
“ Oh, my God! my God ! You alone
have power to save me now, or strengthen me for
the trial you permit.”
Another morning dawned upon the wretched
captive, and the fatal index of his doom met his
eyes. Two windows! and two days, and all would
be over! Fresh food and fresh water! The mysterious
visit had been paid, though he had implored
it in vain. But how awfully was his prayer
answered in what he now saw! The roof of the
dungeon was within a foot of his head. The two
ends were so near, that in six paces he trod the
