“O forget what I have said in the heat of passion. Beings like you are above slander. Forgive what I have said!”
“When you come to **** stop at the inn of St. James’s, and then you shall be convinced by my actions that I have forgiven you.” So saying, he shook hands with me and left my apartment.
“Who is that incomprehensible man?” said I to myself, “Have I not been his mortal enemy half an hour ago, and now am again become his friend and admirer, am again enchained with fetters of which I fancied I had rid myself entirely? Is my weakness the source of this unaccountable change, or is he in possession of a magic charm by which he rules with secret power every heart?” O thou who once shall read this history, whoever thou art, do not look scornfully upon my relapse. Thou hast not seen the countenance of that man, hast not heard him speak: I have been less enthralled by what he said, than by the manner in which he spoke. The magic power which his looks, his mien, his accent, and every gesture gave to his words, rendered credible even what was improbable, and raised the latter to certainty. While he was speaking I little thought to interrupt him, dwelling with secret pleasure upon the contemplation of the seducing pictures which he placed before me, and only when in cooler blood, I began to anatomize and to scan the train of his arguments. I discovered defects, gaps, and improbabilities which shook the very base of my belief, and overclouded the charming prospects which he displayed before my enraptured eyes. How ever, there was one idea on which I dwelled with joyful confidence. ‘It will be accomplished,’ I exclaimed, ‘although every other promise of the Irishman should prove airy phantoms. I shall see Amelia, and be happy!’
But this hope too began to dwindle away, after I had waited the next day at the inn to which I had been directed by the Irishman, from eight o’clock in the morning till seven o’clock at night without having received tidings from Amelia. I was just going to take up my guitar in order to give vent to my melancholy sensations, when my servant came to tell me that a girl wanted to speak to me. I ordered him to shew her to my apartment. After many courtisies and circumlocutions, the unknown fair one begged me at length to have the kindness to honour her lady with a wish. Asking her who her lady was, she replied that she durst not tell me her name, but would shew me the way to the castle. “Then your lady has sent you to me?” “God forbid,” she replied, “my lady knows not a syllable of my errand; and your Lordship must tell the servant to announce you by the name of the Marchese Albertini.” “Who was it then that gave you that order?” “An officer in a blue uniform,” she replied, “who has paid a visit to my lady some time ago. He told me where I should find your Lordship; but, for heaven’s sake do not tell my lady of it; for he has given me a louis d’or to conceal that circumstance from her!” Now I knew what to think of the matter. I could have kissed the little garrulous messenger. “There, take this;” said I, emptying my purse in her apron, “shew me instantly to the house of your lady!” The girl was enraptured with joy, hurried down stairs, and I followed her with impatient steps.
(To be continued.)
OBSERVATIONS ON THE BOILING POINT OF WATER.
Water when exposed to a sufficient degree of heat, is gradually heated till it arrives at the 212th degree of Fahrenheit’s thermometer, after which it resolves itself into vapour, and becomes incapable of growing hotter; supposing, however, that the gravity of the atmosphere remaining the same; for upon high mountains it will boil, or assume the form of vapour in a lower degree of heat; hence in a mean heat of the barometer, the heat of boiling water has been always considered as a fixed and invariable point, namely, equal to the 212th degree of the thermometer; but Mr. Achard, willing to examine the truth of this position, or, in other words, willing to observe whether the heat of boiling water was subject to be altered by any other circumstance, besides the variable pressure of the atmosphere, made many experiments, the summary of which is, that the aperture of the vessel in which the water is boiled, occasions a variation, amounting to nearly one degree; the heat being greater when the aperture is narrower; and the substance of the vessel is also the cause of considerable variation; for if the vessel be made of glass, porcelain or other substance, which is a bad conductor of heat, the boiling point of water will be a constant degree, but if the vessel be of metal, all other circumstances being alike, then the heat of boiling water will be fluctuating.