The pilot and transcript. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1840-1841, 1840-05-18

is she here!' cried Leopold, lmpatlently.
my SOB, she is not replied the abbess.
!But she has been here1
1T is very true that she has been here,
but she has departed hence
when did she go, and whittier? Tell
me, and the speed of the winds of heaven
shall not equal mine in pursuit of her.
Again | say to you, be patient Re-
member that sorrow and suffering are the
lot of mortas, and that it is TO them alone
we can hope to enjoy that true happiness
which is in heaven
Leopold would have rushed from the room
without listening to any more Of the old
Iady's exhortations but the desire oflearn-
ing whittier Laura had gone, restrained
him.
IF you will moderate that transport,
which even now shakes your every limb,
and will promise to bear like a man that
which man is born to suffer, will tell you
whittier our dear sister is departed
Leopold bowed. There was solemnity
in the manner g! thiie old iady's last address
to him which shocked him. He had
thought that to find the place of Laura's
abode was to be happy. Now, for the first
time, he began TO think that some sinister
accident might have happened, more fatal
to his hopes than even her flight.
Il do promise,' he said, and the blood re-
ceded from his cheeks as he gazed almost
breathless on the abbess.
The track ofmany years bad obterated,
| thought, the very scars of former sorrows
| from my heart said the abbess, as her eyes
streamed with tears; but the sight of your
suferings makes me feel the old wounds
again. My son, the sister Laura has gone
to her home-she is dead 7
Leopold gasped, and looked in stupid as
constituent for a moment-then fell at the
old lady's feet, as il thunderbolt had
struck him.
She Immediately rang for assistance the
porter, priest who performed the religious
services of the cloister, and some of the ell
der nuns, entered. At first it was thought
that Leopold was dead: no pulse could be
felt in his veins, no respiration on his lips,
and his face was pale and rigid, as if death
had already inflicted the last blow of suffer
ing on him. Atlength, however, the cares
OF the surrounding persons were successful;
he slowly opened his eyes, and, as the re-
collection of the fatal information he had re-
ceived required to him, a cold shuddering
convused his frame.
Tell me, when did she die !" he asked, i'll
scarcely audible tone.
Five days ago. replied the abbess; and
yesterday she was buried Leopold groan-
ed deeply.
Il know said the abbess, (who thought
that if she could get him to listen she might
be able to relieve him by dlverting his
thoughts,) 'the whole history your i'll
fated attachment, and pity you most hear
thy. But you are not yet aware that we
believed you were dead
Leopold made no answer, but by his ges-
lures showed that he was attending 10 the
abbess's discourse.
Sister Laura she continued, flowed you
too well to be moved by the absurd reports
which her father so readily believed; and
she lived in the hope of being united To
you, until the receipt Of that fatal letter, by
which she understood you were dead
'What letter do you speak off asked Leo
pold.
THE letter which you wrote, and in
which you said you should be no more al
the time it would reach her hands, This it
was that killed her; this destroyed the hope
that sustained her; and she died, because,
without you, the world had no joys for her.
SHOW me that letter, cried Leopold with
faint effort
The abbess did so Immediately; and he
recognised the letter which he had written
on the morning of his duel, and which he
had since sought in vain. He sunk back
in despair. The fiend triumphs = he said;
lit is in vain TO contend further. The last
blow is now struck
After few minutes he recovered again,
and, fixing his Iustreless eyes upon the alb
bess, he said, Lead me, implore you, to
her grave
The Abbess, hoping that the sight of this
melancholy spot NIGH, by exciting his tears,
assuage that mortal AGONY which racked
his heart, complied with his request. She
added some words of consolation, which
fell as much UNDECIDED upon the ear of Leo
pold as il he had already been laid in the
grave he sought to visit.
The old priest and the porter supported |
him, for his own limbs almost refused their |
office; and, followed by the abbess and the
nuns, all of whom wept at the p;teous spec
tacle which Leopold exhibited, they pro-
ceeded towards the convent cemetery. |
Leopold never raised his head from the |
shoulder of the kind priest until they stop
ped.
Here said the father, SIS the low grave
in which lies she whom you loved, and who
was the personifcation of beauty and
virtue sr
Leopold looked up. One glance was
enough-the wel-known spot, which Moth
ing could have erased from his memory, |
was before him. The ivy-coloured wall
the tall cypresses-the white tablet, on
which the moonbeams fell with silvery |
lustre-the sparkling marble spires of the
convent in the back ground-all convinced
him at once that this was the cemetery oil
Santa Croce-that the spot N which he