for such as love me well, and when a lady fair----"

"Eh!" exclaimed the renegade, "what lady fair is this?"

"Oh, Alagraf," returned Caneri, unable any longer to contain himself, "I
am the happiest of men--Theodora--the beautiful Theodora has at length
yielded to the soft persuasions of love, and it is to you, my good
Alagraf, that I stand chiefly indebted for such favorable results."

The renegade started back in visible consternation. Caneri's words sent
daggers to his heart. Could it be possible? the amiable and elevated
Theodora, sunk to the base minion of so worthless a character! and all
his plans overturned for ever! It appeared unaccountable--impossible.
Theodora could not look kindly upon the object of her late mortal
abhorrence.--Such a transition was abrupt--unnatural--unless, indeed,
her reason had fallen a sacrifice to her accumulated distress.

Terrible thoughts coursed over the troubled and darkened brow of the
renegade, whilst his whole person manifested strong marks of the passion
that agitated his bosom.

"Alagraf, what means this emotion? why, you appear thunderstruck."

"Yes;" replied the renegade, assuming his composure, "with surprise. But
you said it was to my good offices you stood indebted for your success.
Now would you favour me with the particulars of such an extraordinary
conquest?"--

"Aye, my friend," returned vauntingly Caneri; "Fortune is very
capricious. She never works progressively, but by starts, and then
according to the mood she is in, a man is either overpowered with misery
or with bliss. Some time since both the affairs of my country and those
of my heart went on desperately; the scales are now turned, and I am
blessed in a double triumph.

"But," cried the renegade, "the nature of your triumph I would fain
learn."

"It is complete," replied Caneri with complacency.

"Complete!" re-echoed the renegade with emotion--"complete! how?"

"At least by anticipation," returned the Moor. "Complete by
anticipation. Nothing is yet concluded."

The renegade recovered from the suspense of agony.

"The triumph of which I speak," continued Caneri, "is yet to come,
though it is already beyond a doubt. Theodora, until now so resolutely
bent against me--Theodora, who at the very sight of me shrunk back with
horror and abhorrence--Theodora at last receives me not only without
reluctance, but even with kindness. My visits no longer create disgust
and dread, and every symptom foretels