afforded me much satisfaction: and taking me by the hand, led me to this closet, where he had ordered the bones of the unfortunate Lorenzo to be placed as they still remain. Though I had no more than an indistinct guess at the dreadful truth; yet an object so astonishing, so shocking, had almost deprived me of my senses, before I knew the causes I had for grief. But when he related the story, and with a barbarous pleasure dwelt on the cruel triumph be had gained, my spirits, weakened with pain and inward discontent, were grown too weak to sustain a discovery so alarming; and I fell motionless at the feet of this vindictive husband. He made use of his utmost endeavours, indeed, to recover me; but when he had, What exclamations did I not utter? What did I not say of upbraiding and reproachful? How did now all my former tenderness for Lorenzo return, and with what an extremity of detestation look upon his murderers! The names of father and husband were too little to awe the present fury of my soul. A thousand times I cried out to them to compleat their cruelty, and send me to my dear Lorenzo; nay, was but with the greatest care? and diligence prevented from giving myself that death which they denied me. The violence of my passion, I think, abated that of the count's, and he began to treat me with more mildness; and at last to endeavour, by all the ways he could invent, to alleviate my discontents; but I refused to listen to any thing he said: and one time, when he was more than ordinarily assiduous about me, I flung from him, and throwing myself on the floor, made a solemn vow, that since he had brought Lorenzo to me, though not in a condition to know, or reward my constancy, no day of my ensuing life should pass, without some part of it being spent with him. For many months did I refuse either to sleep or eat with the count, whom I never called by any other title, than that of murderer, ruffian, and base assassin; but passions, which rage with that violence mine did, are seldom of long continuance. The ten-
