eyes and trembling hand, made me sensible that my conjectures were not unfounded.
How was I to reconcile all these circumstances! That Pedro had a design upon me, was more than visible: but did this design relate to the plan of my brethren of the Cabal?—All this much puzzled me; I was left in the dark, but resolved to be on my guard.
Several days glided away without hearing from my neighbour, nor did I wish to see him myself, or send a servant to enquire in my name. On the evening of the fifth day as I was walking by the brook in my garden, I heard the loud sobs of a woman, very near. It was Francisca. Her moans were artless, and it was impossible for her to have seen me approach. She was sitting on the opposite side of the rivultet, and mixing her tears with the clear stream, which formed a small creek at her feet. Her attitude was so expressive of grief, that tears of sympathy at such a spectacle, gushed involuntarily from my eyes.
She must be in love, said I to myself, and thou art perhaps the unfortunate object. I far down facing her, and softly called out:
