Surely, if any thing
can be mortifying to a lover, thought our heroine, it
must be to see a rival save the life of his mistress,
while imperious duty chains him to another task.
Young as Julia was, she had already learnt, that it
is not enough for our happiness that we have the
consciousness of doing right, but it is necessary
that others should think we have done so too.
Accordingly, early the following morning she arose,
and wandered around the house, in hopes that
chance would throw her lover in her way, and give
her an opportunity of relieving his mind from the
load of mortification under which she knew he must
be labouring. It was seldom that our heroine had
been in the public bar-room of a tavern--but, in
gliding by the door, she caught a glimpse of
Antonio in the bar; and, impelled by her feelings,
she was near him before she had time to collect her
scattered senses. To be with Antonio, and alone,
Julia felt was dangerous; for his passion might
bring on a declaration, and betray them both to the
public and vulgar notice.--Anxious, therefore, to
effect her object at once, she gently laid her hand
on his arm--Antonio started and turned, while the
glass in his hands fell, with its contents, untasted,
on the floor.
"Rest easy, Antonio," said Julia, in the gentlest
possible tones; "to me your conduct is satisfactory,
and your secret will never be exposed." So saying,
she turned quickly, and glided from the room.
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