“Day after day crept away, during which the dreadful uniformity of her unhappy situation was uninterrupted, except by moments of utter despair, whose power frequently was on the point of subduing the poor prisoner; or else by those gleams of ungrounded hope, with which Providence strengthens and comforts those whom he means finally to preserve, in order that they may not quite sink beneath the burthen of their calamities. Luprian still returned not: the lady’s complaints seemed gradually to make their impression on the mind of his deputy. He occasionally suffered hints to escape him, that it would not be impossible to obtain his consent to her liberty: and at length at her earnest request he was induced to declare, that he was ready that instant to put an end to her sufferings, provided she would consent to share with him as his wife the enjoyment of that wealth, which the Abbot had placed in his custody. “Here then her hopes again were disappointed. Vexation added bitterness to the manner, in which she indignantly rejected his infamous proposal: and the wretch, exasperated by her cutting expressions, swore, that he would put his plan in execution without her that very day, and would leave her to her fate. He kept his oath; and the captive must have perished, had not the Abbot fortunately returned at this identical moment. His expedition had been attended with nothing but disappointment. The wealth, which he had vested in foreign hands, had disappeared from a variety of causes, some through mischance, more through treachery; and he now only returned to find his associate fled, his treasure plundered, and his mistress as inflexible as ever. Vexation, poverty, and fatigue threw him on the bed of sickness. Many days frequently past, during which the captive was totally neglected; when at length her gaoler appeared, it was only to throw to her a loaf of that bread, of which he now could with difficulty procure a sufficiency for his own sustenance, and with every time to assure her, that this nourishment was the last, which she would ever receive from his hands. He spoke no longer of flight, or indeed of his passion for her; in truth, the former now seemed to be almost impracticable, for the rebuilding of the Monastery was begun; people were constantly employed in the neighbourhood of the dungeon’s entrance; and the outlets from the ruins were watched with more vigilance than ever. The sufferer frequently entreated him to promise, that he would at least reveal to some one the place of her confinement before his death; since in order to increase her terrors he never mist an opportunity of assuring her, that he had not many days to exist. But in vain did she represent to him, that when he should be in another world, her sufferings in this could by no means be to him of any advantage: he was deaf to her supplications. Bitter and contemptuous irony was his only answer; and it seemed as if he solely enabled her to support life, in order that he