I continued walking up and down the room in such agony of feeling, that a cold dew, colder than ice, hung upon my aching brow. I heard a footstep approach--I became motionless; the door opened, and the priest appeared, leading in Glorvina. God of Heaven! The priest supported her on his arm, the veil was drawn over her eyes; I could not advance to meet them, I stood spellbound,--they both approached; I had not the power to raise my eyes. “You sent for me,” said the priest, in a faltering accent. I presented him my letter for the Prince; suffocation choked my utterance; I could not speak. He put the letter in his bosom, and taking my hand, said, “You must not think of leaving this evening; the Prince will not hear of it.” While he spoke my horse passed the window; I summoned up those spirits my pride, my wounded pride, retained in its service. “It is necessary I should depart immediately,” said I, “and the sultriness of the weather renders the evening preferable.” I abruptly paused--I could not finish the sentence, simple as it was. “Then,” said the priest, “_any_ evening will do as well as this.” But Glorvina spoke not; and I answered with vehemence, that I should have been off long since: and my determination is now fixed. “If you are thus _positive_,” said the priest, surprised by a manner so unusual, “your friend, your pupil here, who came to second her father’s request, must change her solicitations to a last farewell.” Glorvina’s head reposed on his shoulder; her face was enveloped in her veil; he looked on her with tenderness and compassion, and I repeated, a “last farewell!” Glorvina, you will at least then say, “_Farewell_.” The veil fell from her face. God of Heaven, what a countenance! In the universe I saw nothing but Glorvina; such as I had once believed her, my own, my loving and beloved Glorvina, my tender friend, and impassioned mistress. I fell at her feet; I seized her hands and pressed them to my burning lips. I heard her stifled sobs; her tears of soft compassion fell upon my cheek; I thought them tears of love, and drew her to my breast; but the priest held her in one arm, while with the other he endeavoured to raise me, exclaiming in violent emotion, “O God, I should have foreseen this! I, I alone am to blame. Excellent and unfortunate young man, dearly beloved child!” and at the same moment he pressed us both to his paternal bosom. The heart of Glorvina throbbed to mine, our tears flowed together, our sighs mingled. The priest sobbed over us like a child. It was a blissful agony; but it was insupportable.