(100)
Matravis had, till now, been content to be a villain within the limits of the law—but, on the present occasion, hot fumes of wine, cooperating with his deep desire of revenge, and the insolence of an unhoped meeting, overcame his customary prudence, and Matravis rose, at once, to an audacity of glorious mischief.
Late at night he met her, a lonely, unprotected virgin—no friend at hand—no place near of refuge.
Rosamund Gray, my soul is exceeding sorrowful for thee—I loath to tell the hateful circumstances of thy wrongs—Night and silence were the only witnesses of this young maid's disgrace—Matravis fled.
Rosamund,
