able; evil-minded persons set my father against you, nor could I ever remove the prejudice: henceforth we are brothers, more than ever; use this house as your own; give up your idle acquaintance—I will introduce you to the good and worthy, and those only shall be my friends that are my brother's also."
A reception so unexpected for a few moments warmed my heart to virtue, but the impression soon wore off; I accepted his offer, nevertheless, and for some time endeavoured to keep within bounds, and to be as private in my vices as possible. I found it easy to deceive my brother; whilst I preserved a semblance of goodness before him, no suspicion entered his breast. I had so long accustomed myself to behold him with hatred and envy, that every proof of his kindness, which carried with it an obligation, I could not support, rendered him more hateful in my eyes, because I knew it was undeserved. One morning the Count asked what I thought of the Count Morlini's daughter? (at that time esteemed the most beautiful woman in Naples, and whom I had long looked upon with desiring eyes.) I spoke my opinion freely. "I am glad, (returned my brother) your sentiments correspond with mine; she is good as well as beautiful, and I hope in a short time will become my wife." This was a dagger to my heart: I knew she never could be mine, and therefore had suppressed my wishes, but the idea of her being my brother's wife threw me into a rage little short of madness: I hastened from him to vent my passion alone. Every plan which malice could suggest I thought on, to prevent the marriage, but my plots proved abortive, and the union took place. The day previous to the marriage, my noble brother presented me with a deed, which secured a handsome annuity to me for life; assuring me his house was still my home,—his country seat the same, but he choose to make me independent. From that day I was truly miserable: I adored the Countess, I hated my brother. She treat-
