he same Place of it, and by the same Means on which she
had agreed to give her self entirely to you, but the Hour is eleven.
I know, +Henrique+, your +Ardelia+ is dearer to you than your Life:
But your Life, your dear Life, is more desired than any Thing in
this World, by_

Your injur'd and forsaken

_ELVIRA_.

This she delivered to _Richardo's_ Servant, whom _Henrique_ had gained
that Night, as soon as she came to visit _Ardelia_, at her usual Hour,
just as she went out of the Cloister.

Don _Henrique_ was not a little surprized with this _Billet_; however,
he could hardly resolve to forbear his accustom'd Visits to _Ardelia_,
at first: But upon more mature Consideration, he only chose to converse
with her by Letters, which still press'd her to be mindful of her
Promise, and of the Hour, not taking notice of any Caution that he had
received of her Treachery. To which she still return'd in Words that
might assure him of her Constancy.

The dreadful Hour wanted not a Quarter of being perfect, when Don
_Henrique_ came; and having fixed his Rope-Ladder to that Part of the
Garden-Wall, where he was expected, _Ardelia_, who had not stir'd from
that very Place for a Quarter of an Hour before, prepar'd to ascend by
it; which she did, as soon as his Servant had returned and fixed it on
the inner-side of the Wall: On the Top of which, at a little Distance,
she found another fasten'd, for her to descend on the out-side, whilst
Don _Henrique_ eagerly waited to receive her. She came at last, and flew
into his Arms; which made _Henrique_ cry out in a Rapture, _Am I at last
once more happy in having my +Ardelia+ in my Possession!_ She, who knew
his Voice, and now found she was betray'd, but knew not by whom,
shriek'd out, _I am ruined! help! help!--Loose me, I charge you,
+Henrique!+ Loose me!_ At that very Moment, and at those very Words,
came _Sebastian_, attended by only one Servant; and hearing _Henrique_
reply, _Not all the Powers of Hell shall snatch you from me_, drawing
his Sword, without one Word, made a furious Pass at him: But his Rage
and Haste misguided his Arm, for his Sword went quite through
_Ardelia's_ Body, who only said, _Ah, wretched Maid!_ and drop'd from
_Henrique's_ Arms, who then was obliged to quit her, to preserve his own
Life, if possible: however he had not had so much Time as to draw, had
not _Sebastian_ been amazed at this dreadful Mistake of his Sword; but
presently recollecting himsel