"No (replied Madeline, mournfully) he cannot."
"The Notary has accompanied him (resumed Floretta) and he desired me to tell you that had he imagined the Countess so near her end, he would, notwithstanding the weather, have come hither yesterday."
"Alack—(cried Agatha) I grieve he did not; my Lady's kind intentions towards you will never now be fulfilled."
The idea of their being frustrated could not, in the present state of Madeline's mind, excite one sigh. Pale, faint, exhausted, she at last complied with the request of Agatha, and retiring to her chamber, threw herself upon the bed; but not even for an instant did sleep shed oblivion over her sorrows; she found the words of the Poet true, that
He, like the world, his ready visit pays
Where fortune smiles, the wretched he forsakes,
Swift on his downy pinions flies from woe,
And lights on lids unsully'd by a tear.
