ABSTRACT
THE nature of Angelo was such that his first sensations were ever the most violent. The paroxysms of despair ceasing, he shed torrents of tears over the breathless form of Gabrielle, he was no longer frantic, a deep woe oppressed and rendered him incapable of worldly cares, he shut himself up in her chamber, and would suffer no one to draw him thence. For hours would he gaze on that pale countenance, calm, beautiful and expressive, even in death. Sometimes involuntarily would he persuade himself she breathed, and touch her cold hand, which breaking instantly the delusion, he would start back with a shudder, and burst into tears.
