The Whig standard. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1843-1844, 1844-05-24

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Of thought it could work evil, even if it did not
quite come up to my expectations of the good it
was 70 effect, need not tell you. when add that
she, the idol of my heart, with two young bro
theirs, partook of it and died IL had murdered
them!''
Vittoria uttered wild scream, and buried her
face IN her robe.
For months" continued the poet, 81 was ra-
wing mad !! and the first impulse of returning con-
seriousness was to curse those who. by hurrying
me away from Bresca, had preserveda worthless
and henceforth miserable life! Since then,
have become what the world calls great have
risen to fame and honor The fug doctor
has been the guest of princes the hand of the
murderer sought in friendship by the potentates
of the land, while his heart lies buried in the tomb
Of her he loved and destroyed But renorse and
disease have well-nigh done their work, and i
return tomorrow to die like her at Brescia -
"The saints have pity on you,' exclaimed Wit
tora, with shudder; .sfor see not how earthly
aid can avail you anything. !" 5i.,., ,gs ,.s
"Thanks for the prayer, and now farewel!- -
You alone know the secret of my coming and
going; and having obeyed the impulse which
prompted me to disclose it, shall quit Venice
with lighter heart"
/" Farewer!'' murmured the girl; and as he
rased her hand, and pressed it lightly to his lips,
thrill of horror rather than passion fell coldiy
on her. heart. The poets high mission was ac- q
complished and the buried secret of years had
found a voice at last s,s II
Il, Great was the excitement throughout all Ve-
nice when it became generally known that their
idol had departed, most probably for ever! Wit
tora alone expressed no establishment, but only
grew pale and shuddered iwhen his name was ca.g
suay mentioned in her presence; while Loren-
zini mourned the absence of bis friend with I'M
feigned regret, and, not venturing to seek for
consolation in the society of his cousin, might
have been seen wandering over the city like
restless spirit, longing yet dreadng for his proba-
ton to arrive. Aali M
And SO the month passed away, at the conclu-
sion of which .Vittoria had agreed to come as be-
fore, and claim his promise; it had, indeed, been
part of the conditions on which he was to grant
| it. But she sent her attendant instead, with
message that she, was not well, and a few choice
flowers, which, it is needless to say, were reli-
giously preserved by Lorenzini, and after that he
! heard no more of her. stt 5i -es E
| But as the time drew near when they were to
meet and affix their signatures to the deed of be-
trothment, the girl having attained her seven
teenth year, he began to wonder whether her
stern father could have discovered her secret and
SO detained her a prisoner against her will, in
which case he determined to show his love by
observing her commands even at the last moment,
and at the sacrifice of his own happiness. a
The night arrived at length; and Vittoria. simply
attired, and looking, if possible, more beautiful
than ever, stood leaning upon her fathers arm
and at Lorenzns approach, blushed deeply, and
cast down her bright eyes. Attic command Of
! Sgnor Barnardi, she walked towards the table
with a trembling step, and affixed her name to
the parchment. a8
"Courage, dear cousin!" whispered the noble
youth, II will save you yet; l will not sign!"
81 have deserved this, said the girl; " and
yet, somehow, Llhad thought you loved me too
| well to yield me up thus" saeg&,.sl 81 #
"Vi,tora, am but obeying your own COM
mands," exclaimed the bewildered lover.
"Ah ! but that was a month ago'' replied the
1 maiden, with bashful smile. 4aA!,9a iai eia3s2s
/ Lorenzini snatched first the pen, and then the
! fair hand of his plighted bride, which he covered
with kisses. And henceforth there was not
happier couple in all Venice than these young
cousins Something of shame at her strange in
| fatuation, mingled with gratitude for her escape,
| and his unchanging love, gave dash Of submis-
syeness to the hitherto brilliant and hayward
,heiress which was irrisistibly bewitching.
But little more is known of Bartholomew Ar
nigio save that he died a few years after the
events above mentioned, at his native place. His
principal work is lie Rine printed at Venice;
while many others, both agricultural, medical,
and HISTORICAL serve to assert his just claim TO
| that high rank which has been assigned him in
the literature Of his age and country, few of his
biographers only reverting to that one dark pas
sage in the otherwise brilliant career of the poet
which we have irnperfecty attempted to shadow
out in our legend Of Venice.
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