This violence led to the unhappy result I am about to relate.

Another child was born, a daughter--need I say Nizza, or to give her her proper name, Isabella, for she was so christened after her mother--and one night--one luckless night,--maddened by some causeless doubt, I snatched the innocent babe from her mother's arms, and if I had not been prevented by the attendants, who rushed into the room on hearing their mistress's shrieks, should have destroyed her.

After awhile, I became pacified, and on reviewing my conduct more calmly on the morrow, bitterly reproached myself, and hastened to express my penitence to my wife.

'You will never have an opportunity of repeating your violence,' she said; 'the object of your cruel and unfounded suspicions is gone.'-- 'Gone!' I exclaimed; 'whither ?' And as I spoke I looked around the chamber.

But the babe was nowhere to be seen.