ise,
Till the dire Tempest mingles earth and skies,
And swift into the boundless Ocean borne,
Our foolish confidence too late we mourn:
Round our devoted heads the billows beat,
And from our troubled view the lessening lands retreat.
Prior.

All this while, Ambrosio was unconscious of the dreadful scenes which
were passing so near. The execution of his designs upon Antonia
employed his every thought. Hitherto, He was satisfied with the
success of his plans. Antonia had drank the opiate, was buried in the
vaults of St. Clare, and absolutely in his disposal. Matilda, who was
well acquainted with the nature and effects of the soporific medicine,
had computed that it would not cease to operate till one in the
Morning. For that hour He waited with impatience. The Festival of St.
Clare presented him with a favourable opportunity of consummating his
crime. He was certain that the Friars and Nuns would be engaged in the
Procession, and that He had no cause to dread an interruption: From
appearing himself at the head of his Monks, He had desired to be
excused. He doubted not, that being beyond the reach of help, cut off
from all the world, and totally in his power, Antonia would comply with
his desires. The affection which She had ever exprest for him,
warranted this persuasion: But He resolved that should She prove
obstinate, no consideration whatever should prevent him from enjoying
her. Secure from a discovery, He shuddered not at the idea of
employing force: If He felt any repugnance, it arose not from a
principle of shame or compassion, but from his feeling for Antonia the
most sincere and ardent affection, and wishing to owe her favours to no
one but herself.

The Monks quitted the Abbey at midnight. Matilda was among the
Choristers, and led the chaunt. Ambrosio was left by himself, and at
liberty to pursue his own inclinations. Convinced that no one remained
behind to watch his motions, or disturb his pleasures, He now hastened
to the Western Aisles. His heart beating with hope not unmingled with
anxiety, He crossed the Garden, unlocked the door which admitted him
into the Cemetery, and in a few minutes He stood before the Vaults.
Here He paused.

He looked round him with suspicion, conscious that his business was
unfit for any other eye. As He stood in hesitation, He heard the
melancholy shriek of the screech-Owl: The wind rattled loudly against
the windows of th