Lucilla kept her word; and when the time she expected an answer had expired, her mind was filled with anxious fears for her lover's safety. At length she heard of his arrival at Turin from his friends, most of whom had received letters from him; but Lucilla, who expected to have had the first, got none. She was too generous to be suspicious, and, instead of complaining, continued writing to Fernando in the most affectionate terms, making every excuse for not hearing from him, but entreating him, as he valued her affection, to write to her by every channel. The amiable Lucilla had still the mortification of seeing post after post arrive, without a line from her lover. At length she heard, accidentally, that he was soon to set out for Spain, from whence he was to embark for South America. A thousand painful emotions now seized her breast, and her grief for her lover's unworthiness was not the least. Her fate was drawing to a crisis; and, as her last resource, she wrote him the following letter: "Until I heard of your preparations for crossing the Atlantic, I attributed your silence to your confidence in my esteem, and in my unalterable attachment; and when I reflected how long your indispensable concerns would engage you, I had almost persuaded myself to wish that you would not prolong your absence, even by the time in which you would be writing to me: but, what I have hitherto considered as an occasional slight, is now become an injury so cruel and inhuman, that, with all my prejudice in your favor, I have great difficulty to make myself believe that I am not entirely bereft of your affection. If you are capable of such inconstancy, I absolve you of your vows; and may Heaven forgive you. Mine, I shall ever keep sacred. If you deprive me of the power of fulfilling them--the convent of St. Lucia is not far from me: there will I for ever seclude myself from the world, and confirm how sincerely I am your LUCILLA." This letter having only increased her disappointment, Lucilla took the irrevokable vow, and exerted all her resolution to subdue her passion. Two years after she had taken the veil, her guardian died; and, in his last moments, the wretch confessed, that he had never forwarded any of the letters intrusted to him, and that he had kept Fernando's. He pointed to a box, where they were deposited; but death prevented his discovering his motive for such enormous treachery.