ten all thy
cares, and smooth the rough uneven paths of life? O! I am doomed to
never-ceasing horror and remorse! If misery can atone for such enormous
guilt, I have felt it in the extreme. Like an undying vulture it preys
upon my heart;--to sorrow I am wedded; I hug that teeming consort to my
soul;--never, ah! never shall we part; for soon as my fame shall shine
unclouded by the charge of treason that now hangs over it, I will devote
myself to penitence and woe. A cold, damp pavement shall be my bed; my
raiment shall be sackcloth; the fields shall furnish herbage for my food;
the stream shall quench my thirst; the minutes shall be numbered by my
groans; the night be privy to my strains of sorrow, till Heaven, in pity
to my sufferings, release me from the penance I endure. Perhaps the
saints whom I have murdered will intercede for my remission."

Such was the exercise of grief, in which the hapless Castilian consumed
the night; he had not yet consigned himself to rest, when Renaldo
entering his chamber, displayed such a gleam of wildness and rapture on
his countenance, as overwhelmed him with amazement; for, till that
moment, he had never seen his visage unobscured with woe. "Pardon this
abrupt intrusion, my friend," cried Melvil, "I could no longer withhold
from your participation, the great, the unexpected turn, which hath this
night dispelled all my sorrows, and restored me to the fruition of
ineffable joy. Monimia lives!--the fair, the tender, the virtuous
Monimia lives, and smiles upon my vows! This night I retrieved her from
the grave. I held her in these arms; I pressed her warm delicious lips
to mine! Oh, I am giddy with intolerable pleasure!"

Don Diego was confounded at this declaration, which he considered as the
effects of a disordered brain. He never doubted that Renaldo's grief had
at length overpowered his reason, and that his words were the effects of
mere frenzy. While he mused on this melancholy subject, the Count
composed his features, and, in a succinct and well-connected detail,
explained the whole mystery of his happiness, to the inexpressible
astonishment of the Spaniard, who shed tears of satisfaction, and
straining the Hungarian to his breast, "O my son," said he, "you see what
recompense Heaven hath in store for those who pursue the paths of real
virtue; those paths from which I myself have been fatally misled by a
faithless vapour, which hath seduced my steps, and left me darkling