though these cruel combats are even worse than absence." They now heard the boatmen calling up Lord Nevil's servants; one of whom soon tapped at the door, informing him that all was ready.--"All is ready," echoed Corinne, and knelt beside his father's portrait. Doubtless, her former life then passed in review before her; she exaggerated every fault, and feared herself unworthy of Divine compassion, though far too wretched to exist without it. When she arose, she held forth her hand to Nevil, saying: "Now I can bid you farewell--a moment more, and, perhaps, I could not. May God protect your steps and mine--for I must need his care!" Oswald flung himself once more into her arms, trembling and pale like one prepared for torture, and left the room, where, perhaps, for the last time, he had loved, and felt himself beloved, as few have ever been, or ever can be. When he disappeared, a horrid palpitation attacked Corinne; she could not breathe; everything she beheld looked unreal; objects seemed vanishing from her sight; the chamber tottering as from a shock of earthquake. For a quarter of an hour she heard the servants completing the preparations for this journey. _He_ was still near; she might yet again behold him, speak to him once more; but she would not trust herself. Oswald lay almost senseless in the gondola. At last it rowed away: and at that moment, Corinne fled forth to recall him; but Thérésina stopped her. A heavy rain was falling, and a high wind arose; the house was now, indeed, shaken like a ship at sea, and Oswald had to cross the Lagune in such weather! Corinne descended, purposing to follow him, at least till he should land in safety; but it was so dark that not a single gondola was plying: she walked, in dreadful agitation, the narrow pavement that divides the houses from the water. The storm increased; she called upon the boatmen, who mistook her cries for those of some poor creature drowning--yet no one dared approach, the waves of the grand canal had swollen so formidably. Corinne remained till daybreak in this state; meanwhile the tempest ceased. One of the gondoliers brought word from Oswald that he had crossed securely. That moment was almost a happy one; and it was some hours ere the unfortunate creature again felt the full weight of absence, or calculated the long days which but anxiety and grief might henceforth occupy. CHAPTER IV.