----_Julia_ had sunk under it------and had not been able to go a step farther than to _Lyons_, where, with the many disquietudes of a tender heart, which all talk of----but few feel--she sicken’d, but had just strength to write a letter to _Diego_; and having conjured her brother never to see her face till he had found him out, and put the letter into his hands, _Julia_ took to her bed. _Fernandez_ (for that was her brother’s name)----tho’ the camp-bed was as soft as any one in _Alsace_, yet he could not shut his eyes in it. ----As soon as it was day he rose, and hearing _Diego_ was risen too, he entered his chamber, and discharged his sister’s commission. The letter was as follows: “Seig. DIEGO, “Whether my suspicions of your nose were justly excited or not------’tis not now to inquire--it is enough I have not had firmness to put them to farther tryal. “How could I know so little of myself, when I sent my _Duenna_ to forbid your coming more under my lattice? or how could I know so little of you, _Diego_, as to imagine you would not have staid one day in _Valadolid_ to have given ease to my doubts? --Was I to be abandoned, _Diego_, because I was deceived? or was it kind to take me at my word, whether my suspicions were just or no, and leave me, as you did, a prey to much uncertainty and sorrow? “In what manner _Julia_ has resented this----my brother, when he puts this letter into your hands, will tell you; He will tell you in how few moments she repented of the rash message she had sent you----in what frantic haste she flew to her lattice, and how many days and nights together she leaned immoveably upon her elbow, looking through it towards the way which _Diego_ was wont to come. “He will tell you, when she heard of your departure--how her spirits deserted her----how her heart sicken’d----how piteously she mourned----how low she hung her head. O _Diego!_ how many weary steps has my brother’s pity led me by the hand languishing to trace out yours; how far has desire carried me beyond strength----and how oft have I fainted by the way, and sunk into his arms, with only power to cry out --O my _Diego!_ “If the gentleness of your carriage has not belied your heart, you will fly to me, almost as fast as you fled from me--haste as you will----you will arrive but to see me expire. ------’Tis a bitter draught, _Diego_, but oh! ’tis embitter’d still more by dying _un_--------” She could proceed no farther. _Slawkenbergius_ supposes the word intended was _unconvinced_, but her strength would not enable her to finish her letter.