A dreadful suspicion loaded my heart with an immense burden. Her death was so sudden, so unnatural, and the chief, on my reception into the Cabal, spoke so enigmatically of the case, and alas! I had been obliged to swear ta Rosalia never to love Elmira again. Of what use could be such an oath, if she really was dead?—And Rosalia seemed so eager, so anxious to press me to it. Should she perhaps be still among the living? Should they only have wrested her from me, by some artful, natural contrivance?—And why?—To chain me with Rosalia's charms?—My sorrow now burst forth in a flood of tears: How different, said I, were thy charms, Elmira,—thy innocent looks, thy faithful and unassuming endearments! Never will I forget thee;———Ah! hadst thou never left Carlos—how happy would he be now!
Here I took out Elmira's portrait, kissed it with all the ardor of my affection to the once charming original, and passed the remainder of the day in reviving the picture of my past felicity.
