—“Be patient with me for a few moments!” said she after some time; “the dreadful scene, which I witnessed at Ravenstein Castle, stands before me exprest in such strong and lively colours, that horror almost robs me of my senses! Allow me time to recover myself, in pity!”— We now remained in anxious expectation of the moment, when Edith should be sufficiently herself to clear up this mystery. My uncle was totally in the dark as to her meaning; but certain obscure suspicions flitted before my recollection, which Edith’s narrative soon confirmed. That unfortunate captive, who had endeavoured to destroy by fire the gloomy prison, in which she had groaned away so many wretched years; she, in whom the bare mention of my name had produced so violent an emotion, that it threw her into the delirium, in which she ended her life; she, that unhappy one, had a claim to Ethelbert’s hand prior to that of the betrayed Urania! In her last moments she called me the cause of her misfortunes! In her last moments she cursed me ... and I was innocent! Edith’s tenderness had induced her to conceal from me the dreadful scene which she had witnessed, and in which Lucretia had made known to her this important secret. She was well acquainted with the weakness of my nature; she thought, that for an heart so tender and so fond as mine, to remain ignorant of the _whole_ extent of the misfortunes, which had been the consequence of my so earnestly desired marriage would be more supportable, than to know that I had been the cause (however innocent) of Lucretia’s sufferings, and had been myself so grossly deceived by a man, whom I had once loved so passionately, and whom in spite of all his cruelty I could not yet bring myself to hate. The veil was now withdrawn! I now found, that I had for many years been the unlawful consort of one, who only deserved my love so long, as I remained ignorant of his real character. I now found, that I who would not willingly have crushed a worm, who would gladly have banished from the earth every trace of sorrow, had for many years caused the sufferings of an unknown, who perhaps was good and amiable!—But no! that was not Lucretia’s character. Of this you will be convinced, my children, on reading her story traced by the hand of Edith, and entitled “_Lucretia Malaspina_.” You will there see, that she had obtained Ethelbert’s hand by a series of the vilest artifices; that her conduct afterwards had been such, as almost justified his treatment of her; that the son (whose arrival she so eagerly expected, though in vain) had been abandoned by her to early licentiousness, and bred up in hatred of his father; and her miserable death was exactly such an end, as was best adapted to a life so destitute of virtue.