than he sat off privately, and arrived there the day of Don Ferdinand’s death. He soon called at the house of the widow, and after having paid her some distant compliments, he buried her husband at his own expence, and with the same magnificence as he had observed at the funeral of his father. After this service was over, he returned to Donna Clara, accompanied by some of the first noblemen belonging to the court, whom he had caused to follow as mourners; and he thus addressed her:—“Madam, I have just been rendering one last service to Don Ferdinand. You well know the motives which urged me to it, and no one is ignorant of my passion for you, which has increased with time; although you have never shewn me the least favour since your marriage, which could give me any kind of hope, the respect and admiration which I have ever felt for your virtue, have contributed to render me constant to your beauty; capable, indeed, of itself alone, to triumph over the most insensible heart. We are both of us now independent of the will of others, since I have no longer a parent, nor you a husband. It is time to reward my fidelity, and to let your virtue be crowned by wealth.” Donna Clara, penetrated with this generous proceeding, attempted to throw herself at his feet. But he prevented her by taking one of her beautiful hands, and imprinting on it a fervent kiss. Ardent to accelerate his felicity, he sent immediately to a notary to prepare the contract: and in a short time after, having obtained permission of the King to celebrate his marriage, he married Donna Clara, and observed the utmost splendor in the ceremony of his nuptials.
Don Sancho did not limit his generosity merely to Donna Clara: he extended it to the daughters of this virtuous female, and settled on them a handsome fortune, when he found them determined on taking the veil, in the same convent in which they had been educated. The heart of Donna Clara was too grateful not to love with sincere affection, so generous a husband, and whose love had been so tried and constant. The remainder of their days were passed in the most happy harmony, and they had a progeny which inherited their virtues with their riches; while the virtuous Clara experienced in this happy union the recompence of her patient goodness, which had made her support with fortitude, those severe sorrows to which she had been formerly exposed.
THE DUMB LOVER.—A TRUE STORY.
FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAME M.
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Frank was overwhelmed with grief; how could he contrive to see Meta again? How could he succeed in gaining her affections? After mature deliberation he determined to remove the alarms of the mother by never appearing at his window; but how then shall he know whether that of his neighbours is open, and whether the curtain is up? Love renders his votaries ingenious. Frank sold one of the rings he had left, bought a pier glass, and hung it up at the farther extremity of his apartment, but in such a manner that the house opposite was entirely represented. His post of observation thus established, Frank no longer shewed himself, and with his back urned towards the window, and his eyes continually fixed on the glass, he had the satisfaction, at the expiration of a few days, to behold the celestial face of Meta. Dame Brigite, as Frank had judiciously imagined, seeing him no longer, thought that she had been mistaken, that she had tired his patience, or that he had left his lodgings; at any rate, the curtain, which had impeded their work, was drawn up, and Frank could see in his glass much better than from his window, where he could not look with as much attention. With this scheme, however, he was not fully satisfied; Meta was unacquainted with it,—Meta did not suspect that he thought of her only, or that he could see her: by what means was she to be inform-
