tears. I cried aloud-I shrieked in the ful

ness of my agony.

I invoked the wrath of

--she stirred not! The

heaven-the vengeance of man. It was vain deed was done; I had

lost her, and with her, that priceless gift-a woman's affection, a woman's love! I sank under my misery. When consciousness returned, I was lying on a couch in the house of a person of rank, who learning the transaction, and taking compassion on my forlorn condition, had caused me to be removed. Others had recognised the person of my Isabel, and by them the remains were taken to the abode of her hapless parents.

"A raging fever was the result; the issue, it seems, was long doubtful. Would that I My first effort was to rise, and rush out of the house; but instantly per

had died.

ceiving the fruitlesness of the attempt, I burst into a flood of tears.

of

'Unhappy youth, spake out a voice tenderest compassionateness-God will dry up

thy tears, God will heal thy pain! Ah, turn to him, my son, with contrite heart; he hath a cure for every wound, a balm for every woe.' I beheld a venerable ecclesiastic; a long tunic covered his person, and a beard white as snow, descended to his girdle Never had I witnessed such meekness, such majesty, such an aspect of purity in any mortal man.

'Son,' he continued to accost me, I know thee and have mourned thy tearful lot. Thou art the young Irish stranger whom we expected: I am principal of the Seminario at Salamanca, to which thou shouldest have turned thy steps, better it had been sooner, late as it is, it may yet be well.'

66

My spirit was subdued. I consented. But for one night, I must watch by the tomb of Isabel. Tall waxen tapers burned around. Father Agostino watched with me through the night. I knelt and prayed that heaven might grant remission of her sins, and absolve me for having been the cause of her early death.

At times, my vision seemed to pierce through the marble sepulchre: I thought I beheld that virgin countenance illumined with a smile of peace and joy,-could see the lips move, and hear a voice exclaim-the voice of my Isabel; 'be constant and true, beloved one, and we shall yet meet again.'

"In the morning, I claimed and obtained, a lock of her raven hair; it has ever since been worn next my heart. Doña Isabel had been interred with all the imposing ceremonial of the church; fragrant incense swung; masses were chaunted for the repose of her soul, and psalms sung with thrilling voices in that ancient tongue which continues to be used, though the race that spoke it be no more. All that remained of one who died that I might live, had been deposited in the tomb b; and the adamantine screen that no human hand might draw, was placed between. Henceforth, the love of woman was to be a stranger to my

heart-I only loved the dead, till the period might arrive when with fresh love and fresh joy, I should be re-united to the departed one for evermore.

"Father Agostino took me with him to Salamanca. I retired late, and rose early. Water, bread, and herbs were my only fare. Unremitting study alternated by work in the garden of the Seminario and devotional exercises for four long years, were my unvarying occupation. At the close of that period as now, the death of Isabel was an event of yesterday. I will not deny that the form of her whom I had lost, came before me in my dreams-that I could hear betimes, a light foot upon the floor-that a laughing voice I had heard before, came rushing from the orange trees, along with the odour of their flowersdiscern a fair image floating on the rays of the gorgeous setting sun. I read her letters till each word of their contents, and all the

varied melody of their composition in that fervid southern tongue, was graven on my memory. Mine was of the natures that never forget.

"Father Agostino lapsed full of years; and the good man was deposited in all the odour of sanctity in the grave. The simple peasants moved by his virtues, used to say that angels nightly came to sing around his tomb. I revisited Madrid; I kissed the white marble that cinctured Isabel, and prayed afresh by her remains. Since then I have wandered hither and thither, at the dictation of my superiors, declining all advancement, only happy in being of service to my fellows, and gladly awaiting my liberation from a pilgrimage that longs to have a close."

Nothing could exceed the interest which we experienced during the course of Father Power's narrative; but we refrained from interrupting him till the end. Many a tragic

VOL. II.

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