'*  And  now,  sir,  I  have  done,  and  say  no  more;

The  little  I  have  said  may  serve  to  show
The  guileless  heart  in  silence  may  grieve  o'er

The  wrongs  to  whose  exposure  it  is  slow  :—
I  leave  you  to  your  conscience  as  before,

'Twni  one  day  ask  you  why  you  used  mo  so  ?
God  grant  you  feel  not  then  the  bitterest  grief!—
Antonia  1  where's  my  pocket-handkerchief? "

CLVIII.
She  oeased,  and  tum'd  upon  her  pillow ;  pale

She  lay,  her  dark  eyes  flashing  through  their  tears
like  skies  that  rain  and  lighten ;  as  a  veil

Waved  and  o'ershading  her  wan  cheek,  appears
Her  streaming  hair ;  the  black  curls  strive,  but  fail,

To  hide  the  glossy  shoulder  which  uproars
Its  snow  through  all ;— her  soft  lips  lie  apart.
And  louder  than  her  breathing  beats  her  heart.
dJX.
The  Senhor  Don  Alfonso  stood  confused ;

Antonia  bustled  round  the  ransack'd  room,
And,  turning  up  her  nose,  with  looks  abused

Her  master,  and  his  myrmidons,  of  whom
X9ot  one,  except  the  attorney,  was  amused ;

He,  like  Achates,  faithful  to  the  tomb.
So  there  were  quarrelB,  cared  not  for  the  cause,
Knowing  they  must  be  settled  by  the  laws.
CLX.
With  plying  snub-nose,  i^id  small  eyes,  he  stood,
Following  Antonia's  motions  here  and  there,

With  much  suspicion  in  his  attitude ;
For  reputation,  he  had  little  care ;

Bo  that  a  suit  or  action  were  made  good.
Small  pity  had  he  for  the  young  and  fair.
And  ne'er  believ'd  in  negatives,  till  these

Were  proved  by  competent  false  witnesses.
CLXI.
But  Don  Alfonso  stood  with  downcast  lOoiM,
And«  truth  to  say,  he  made  a  foolish  figure ;

When,  alter  searching  in  five  hundred  nooks.
