WHEN the vessel, freighted with these wretched victims of calamity, reached the port of Naples, Rosalie was carried on shore with the rest almost insensible. The woman, whom Alozzi had placed about her during the voyage, was extremely careful of her and her child; he appeared to have suffered much less than might have been expected. The anxiety of Rosalie for his safety recalled her to life and recollection, but with these came the cruel remembrance of all she had suffered, and the dread of all she might yet have to encounter: youth, and a good constitution, were on her side. With her the soothing voice of hope had not yet been silenced by frequent disappointment; a

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 few hours of repose, therefore, with the consciousness of present safety, gave her strength of mind to look steadily on the prospect before her, obscured as it was by uncertainty and fear.

     A stranger in Naples, and without the means of inquiring of any one but Alozzi, who saw her only for a few moments every day, she continued to torment herself with vague and fruitless conjectures as to the fate of Montalbert, of whom she incessantly spoke to the Count, entreating him to make every inquiry, and, above all, to visit Signora Belcastro, his mother, as the probability of Montalbert's safety could be guessed at only by calculating the time of his departure. To these earnest and continual applications Alozzi at first answered by promising to do as she desired; after three or four days he said, he was informed by the servants that their lady was gone to Rome; that Mr. Montalbert left Naples about ten days before her, but whither he was gone they were ignorant.

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     This account Roslaie thought Alozzi delivered with a degree of sang-froid very unlike his usual manner, especially when so dear a friend as Montalbert was concerned. It served, therefore, only to irritate her impatience and awaken new fears. She was now entirely dependent on Count Alozzi, and though she was unconscious of that jealousy which had rendered Montalbert uneasy before their last parting, she was sensible that it was extremely improper for a woman of her age to remain under the protection of such a man as Alozzi, who was not related to her, and who had, she knew, the reputation of a libertine. Variety of apprehensions assailed her, from which she knew not how to escape. Though she was ignorant of Montalbert's particular suspicions, she had often remarked with concern that general tendency to jealousy, which was almost the only blemish she had discovered in his character; and it was but too probable, that when they met again, (for the idea of Montalbert's death her

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 heart repelled as soon as it approached), their meeting, and perhaps their future lives, might be embittered by the uneasiness her present situation would create his mind. Nor was that all. In what a light might she not be represented to his mother, already too much prejudiced against her.

     However perplexed by these considerations, Rosalie was under the cruel necessity of keeping them within her own breast; for how could she speak of them to Alozzi?—The woman, who had supplied the place of Zulietta, was not only of an inferior description, but was resolutely silent when questioned on any subject whatever; and all Rosalie could learn of her maid was, that, during the hurry and confusion of their embarkation, Zulietta was among those who had been left on shore, where the waves soon after rose so suddenly that they swept off a multitude of people in their reflux, and it was more than probable that this unfortunate girl

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 was drowned. Of the woman, now her attendant, who was called Maddalena, she was told, that she had lost her husbnad at Messina, and that he had been Maitre d'Hotel to the Count at his house in that city; Maddalena had fled to the villa, and had arrived just as those were embarking whom the Count admitted into the vessel. This story, however probable, and however confirmed by the account Alozzi himself had given, was told by Maddalena with an air so calm and even cold, that Rosalie could not help doubting of its truth, and thought it impossible, that, had she sustained such a loss, she could have spoken of them with so little emotion.

     However that might be, she was perfectly convinced that Alozzi had given this woman orders, which she seemed determined to obey. Day after day passed; on some of them the Count did not appear, on others he sat with her an hour or two, endeavouring to keep up some

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 thing that might resemble common conversation; but the moment Rosalie spoke of Montalbert, of her increasing anguish of heart, of the awkwardness of her situation, and of the burden she must necessarily feel herself to him, Alozzi seemed impatient to put an end to his visit, still persisting to say, however, when he could not entirely evade her questions, that he believed in the safety of Montalbert. But there was something in his manner of saying this, that gave Rosalie greater pain than if he had spoken more doubtfully. There seemed to be some mystery for which she could not account, and a carelessness as to the fate of his former friend, which was quite unnatural. Alozzi, it is true, treated her with great respect: he appeared hurt at the remotest hint of any trouble she might give him, and said fine things as to the delight it afforded him to be of any use to her. These sort of speeches he had not unfrequently made while Montalbert was present and they lived together at the Sicilian villa; but

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 now they were made in another manner, and Rosalie shrank from them with something like terror and disgust.

     Anxiety, such as at this time assailed her, could not long be patiently endured. The natural strength of her understanding told her, that to remain under the protection of the Count, and concealed in an obscure lodging at Naples, must in the event be infinitely more prejudicial to her future happiness with Montalbert, if he yet lived, than even the discovery in regard to his mother, which had formerly been the source of so much uneasiness. If Montalbert was lost, how could she think of suffering his son to remain in obscurity, without claiming for him the protection of his father's family, and the fortune, small as it might be, that belonged to him?—This idea gathered strength from hour to hour as she indulged it.—She looked at her son, who visibly improved in health and beauty, and reproached herself for the injury she was doing him by the concealment of a secret, which,

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 perhaps, there might be no danger in revealing; or, if there was, which could affect only herself.

     She considred, that if Montalbert had been a moment in danger, and was restored in safety to his mother, she would hardly at such a time refuse him her pardon. If, on the contrary, his fate was uncertain, if he had sailed for Messina before the tremendous catastrophe which had happened there, and was not yet returned, the fears his mother must entertain for his life would surley prevent her driving from her the fatherless child, for whom she should implore her pity and protection; for herself she had nothing to ask, but to be received as the mother of that child. Almost convinced, by this reasoning, that she ought immediately to throw herself at the feet of Signora Belcastro, she formed plans for proceeding, and even thought that, if they succeeded, Montalbert would be made completely happy by this reconcilliation. Fully possessed by this design,

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 she knew there was no way of executing it without the participation and even the assistance of Alozzi, to whom she took the first opportunity to explain her plans and her reasons for adopting them, desiring Alozzi to make immediate inquiries as to the probability of Signora Belcastro's return to Naples; or, if that was not likely to happen soon, she desired to be put in a way of addressing her properly at Rome.

     The Count heard her with unaffected astonishment, and with anger and concern, which he in vain attempted to stifle; he observed, from her manner, that she had long thought of what she now spoke upon. He listened, however, with as much patience as he could command, and then set himself to prove to her the wildness and impossibility of what she proposed; the injury it might be to Montalbert, the risk it would be to herself. He represented Signora Belcastro as the most violent and vindictive of Italian women, and bade

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 Rosalie consider how she could meet the eye, or endure the reproaches, of such a person? How bear to be treated with contempt and insult, if, as was very probable, Signora Belcastro protested against the legitimacy of the little Montalbert? Or how, on the contrary, support his being torn from her, which, Alozzi protested, she might expect, should the capricious passions of his grandmother take another turn?

     Rosalie listened and shuddered, but still persisted in declaring, that if in two days no news arrived of Montalbert, she would adopt this expedient of claiming for his child the protection of his own family, and, conscious that in doing so had done her duty, would leave the event to Heaven.

     These two days Alozzi hardly ever left her, nor did he omit any argument to dissuade her from, what he termed, a scheme of the wildest desperation. Some expressions, however, that he let fall in the warmth of this debate, served only

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 to confirm her resolution. She told him very calmly, that many of the reasons he had given against her acting as she proposed seemd to her to be the very reasons why she should pursue her plan; that she should have been very much obliged to him would he have lent her his assistance; but added, with a degree of resolution she had never exerted before, that since he declined it, she knew there were Englishmen in Naples, and she was sure, that when her situation was known, there was not one of them but what would come forward to protect and support her.

     A flood of tears followed this temporary exertion of artificial courage, for her forlorn and friendless condition pressed more forcibly than it had ever yet done on her mind; she caught her child to her bosom, and sobbed with a violence of grief which she was not longer able to command.—Alozzi, almost thrown off his guard by the mingled emotions he felt, and alarmed by the mention of her appealing to

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 her own countrymen, now endeavoured to sooth and appease her. He besought her to give him a little more time to make inquiries after his friend, from people who were every day coming in from Sicily; represented how possible it was that he might yet be seeking her there, and gave so many plausible reasons why she ought to wait a little longer before she took a measure which she might repent, when it would be too late, that, at length, he extorted a promise from her to do nothing without his knowledge, and to wait at least another week.

     This week, the third of her arrival at Naples, was rapidly passing away. No news of Montalbert arrived, and now Alozzi affected extreme concern whenever he was spoken of, and the tormenting suspense of his unfortunate wife became almost insupportable. Her former plan was again thought of: if it was followed by none of the advantages she hoped for she should at least learn what was by

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 his own family supposed to be the fate of Montalbert, of which it was improbable they should be as ignorant as she was. Even at the moment when she was suffering all the misery of conjecture, it was possible he might be at Naples, as uncertain in regard to her fate as she was of his; and what other means but those she now thought of, had she to discover whether he yet lived?

     Among the variety of thoughts that offered themselves as she considered this subject, there was one which she wondered had never occured to her before. This was, that Charles Vyvian was certainly in Itlay, and might very probably be at Naples: what a consolation it would be to see him, even though she dared not reveal how nearly they were related!—She, therefore, busied herself in contriving means to discover the names of the English who were now at Naples; but, upon examining this nearer, she found it knowledge that was very difficult for her

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 to obtain. Of the people of the house where she lodged she knew nothing; they had never once appeared in her sight, and her cook was, as Alozzi told her, a Sicilian, who had come over in the same vessel with them, whom he had taken out of pity into his service; but when Rosalie attempted to speak to him, by way of giving him commissions, she found him to be a fellow who had orders to evade executing them, and perfectly knew his part; she even fancied she had seen him before, though she could not recollect where or when. As to the woman, she declined doing any thing, and her reasons too were plausible; she was a stranger at Naples; she did not even know her way in the streets. How was it possible for her to do what Signora Rosalia desired? And how could she go to inquire after English Signors?—and where?——"Ah, Signora! (said the artful Italian, venturing now on a liberty she had never taken before)——Ah, Signora! If you should find those rich and great Signori

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 Inglese, do you think there is among them a finer or a nobler gentleman than Count Alozzi?"

     Rosalie to this impertinence gave a cold and haughty answer. It sunk, however, deeply into her mind; but should she resent it as it deserved, she might, perhaps, deprive her child of the cares of this woman, and it was possible another would be less attentive and less experienced: nor had she, indeed, the means of discharging her, or could she consider her as being her servant.

     The observations which every hour forced themselves upon her mind, were at length so accumulated and so painful, that some immediate relief became necessary; but where was it to be found? Stranger and depressed as she was at her first arrival, she had neither strength nor inclination to go out; nor had she then a change of clothes to appear in. Alozzi had supplied her with every article of dress in proportion; but of these she had forborne to take more than was abso-

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 lutely necessary, not knowing whether Montalbert could ever repay his friend these pecuniary obligations.

     Now, indeed, the weight of them became intolerable, for Rosalie, having once had her fears awakened that the intentions of Alozzi were dishonourable, seized with trembling avidity on every circumstance that confirmed these fears; and, as generally happens in these cases, they went even beyond the truth, and she figured to herself the many imaginary evils: that Signora Belcastro had never been absent from Naples; that her son was even now there, deceived by the artifices of his treacherous friend, and perhaps lamenting as dead the wife and infant who actually existed in the same city—then a train of frightful possibilities followed. Convinced of her death by the report of Alozzi, he might determine to oblige his mother and give his hand to the Roman lady, whom she was so desirous of his marrying. He might then, perhaps, leave

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 Naples for the neighborhood of Rome, she should lose sight of him for ever, and, with her helpless, deserted boy, become a forsaken wanderer upon earth.

     With these terrors sleep forsook the pillow of Rosalie, and peace no longer visited her for a moment during the day. The sight of her child, but yesterday a balm to her anxious heart, no longer afforded her unmixed delight; his innocent eyes and unconcious smiles seemed to reproach her for timidity, which, while it was unworthy of herself, might irreparably injure both his father and him.

     By these reflections her wavering resolution was at last so confirmed, that she determined to write to the mother of Montalbert; and as she could imagine no other safe or even possible way of conveying it, she determined, when her letter was written, to direct it in the most correct manner she could, and walking into the street give it to the first lazzerone she found; such a person could have no

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 interest in deceiving her; and as she intended to give him a small reward when she delivered the letter, and promise one more considerable when he had executed her commission, she thought she should at all events obtain information so very material to her, as whether Signora Belcastro was now at her house at Naples.

     This plan she executed without difficulty because, among all the attempts to write that Alozzi had guarded against, that of her giving herself the letter to the first she met of the numerous lazzeroni in the streets of Naples, was what had never occured to him as possible.

     The letter was long and explanatory, and, if not written in the very purest Italian, was infinitely better than many Italian natives could themselves have penned. It contained expressions of the tenderest nature towards Montalbert; of humility and deference for his mother, on whose pity and protection she threw herself, and with whom she pleaded for her

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 infant boy with a pathos which few hearts could have resisted.

     Having then sealed and directed it, she took her child in her arms, and, her attendant being engaged in another part of the house, walked down into the street; she trembled as she looked around her, and shrunk from the eyes of the few passengers that she saw. Such a person, however, as she had occasion for was soon found. A stout boy of sixteen, half clothed, eagerly presented himself; Rosalie, in a hurried and faltering voice, gave him his commission and two carlinoes*, promising him double that sum if he returned within an hour to the house she had left, which she pointed out to him, and gave her the information she required. The lad promised to do all she directed, and sprang out of sight in an instant. Rosalie, hardly able to support herself, returned to her apart-

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 ments, from which she had not even been missed. The die was now cast. The future happiness or misery of herself and child depended on the answer to this letter: breathless with fear, she awaited the return of her messenger, who came back almost immediately; she flew to the door, the lad told her, that Signora Belcastro was at Naples, and that he had given the packet to one of her servants, who would deliver it to his lady. It was now then certain, that Alozzi had deceived her......Alas! it was certain too, that, in this attempt to emancipate herself from his power, she had been compelled to commit her whole happiness to a woman, whose proud and vindictive character she now thought upon with more terror than ever. It was, however, too late to recede, nor did she wish to do so, but armed herself with the fortitude conscious integrity ought to give, and determined to endure whatever should happen, while no wilfull imprudence or impropriety could be imputed to her.

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     Her own words will now be used to describe how far she was enabled to act as she proposed; when doubting of the existence of him to whom her letters were addressed, she yet found relief in relating her sufferings, and in keeping a register of the melancholy moments as they passed.