16
There is no power within me to bid the hideous
spectre hence—none to make it familiar
to my thoughts; or myself, patieut of its errand.
My thoughts, rather will flee from me,
and I grow mad in looking at it. Oh! for a
deep sleep to fall upon me! That so, in
death’s likeness, I might embrace death itself,
and drink no more of the cup that is presented
to me, than my fainting spirit has already
tasted! ”
In the midst of these lamentations, Vivenzio
noticed that his accustomed meal, with the
pitcher of water, had been eonveyed, as before,
into his dungeon. But this circumstance no
longer excited his surprise. His mind was
overwhelmed with others of a far greater magnitude.
It suggested, however, a feeble hope
of deliverance; and there is no hope so feeble,
as not to yeild some support to a heart bending
under despair. He resolved to watch,
during the ensuing night, for the signs he had
before observed; and should he again feel the
the gentle, tremulous motion of the floor, or
the current of air, to seize that moment for
giving audible expression to his misery. Some
person must be near him, and within reach of
his voice, at the instant when his food was
supplied; some one, perhaps, susceptible of
pity. Or if not, to be told even that his apprehensions
were just, and that his fate was to be
what he foreboded, would be preferable to a
suspense which hung upon the possibilitp of
his worst fears being visionary.
