canst hardly feel much for one thou never saw'st, and who has even refused to own thee for a child. Thou art young, too, and of a sex that should ever be cautious; it is unwise for men, even, to meddle with politics, in these troubled times."

"Signora, it is not politics that brings me here, but nature, and duty, and pious love for my father's father."

"What wouldst thou say, then?" answered the lady, im. patiently; "remember, thou occupiest one whose time is precious, and of high importance to entire nations."

"Eccellenza, I believe it; and will try to be brief. I wish to beg my grandfather's life, of this illustrious stranger. They tell me, the king will refuse him nothing; and he has only to ask it of Don Ferdinando, to obtain it."

Many would have thought the matured charms of the lady superior to the innocent-looking beauty of the girl; but no one could have come to such an opinion, who saw them both, at that moment. While Ghita's face was radiant with a holy hope, and the pious earnestness which urged her on, a dark expression lowered about the countenance of the English beauty, that deprived it of one of its greatest attractions, by depriving it of the softness and gentleness of her sex. Had there not been observers of what passed, it is probable the girl would have been abruptly repulsed; but management formed no small part of the character of this woman; and she controlled her feelings, in order to effect her purposes.

"This admiral is not a Neapolitan, but an Englishman," she answered; "and can have no concern with the justice of your king. He would scarcely think it decent, to interfere with the execution of the laws of Naples."

"Signora, it is always decent to interfere to save life; nay, it is more—it is merciful, in the eyes of God."

"What canst thou know of this! A conceit that thou nast the blood of the Caraccioli, has made thee forget thy sex and condition, and placed a romantic notion of duty before thine eyes."

66

'No, signora, it is not so. For eighteen years have I been taught that the unfortunate admiral was my grandfather; but, as it has been his pleasure to wish not to see me, never have I felt the desire to intrude on his time

Before this morning, never has the thought that I have the blood of the Caraccioli, crossed my mind; unless it was to mourn for the sin of my grandmother; and even now, it has come to cause me to mourn for the cruel fate that threatens the days of her partner in guilt."

"Thou art bold, to speak thus of thy parents, girl; and they, too, of the noble and great !"

This was said with a flushed brow, and still more lowering look; for, haply, there were incidents in the past life of that lady, which made the simple language of a severe morality, alike offensive to her ears and her recollections.

"It is not I, Eccellenza, but God, that speaketh thus. The crime, too, is another reason why this great admiral should use his influence to save a sinner from so hurried an end. Death is terrible, to all, but to those who trust, with heart and soul, to the mediation of the Son of God; but it is doubly so, when it comes suddenly, and unlooked for. It is true, Don Francesco is aged; but have you not remarked, signora, that it is these very aged who become hardened to their state, and live on, as if never to die?—I mean those aged, who suffer youth to pass, as if the pleasures of life are never to have an end."

"Thou art too young to set up for a reformer of the world, girl; and forgettest that this is the ship of one of the greatest officers of Europe, and that he has many demands on his time. Thou canst now go; I will repeat what thou

hast said."

"I have another request to ask, Eccellenza-permission to see Don Francesco; that I may, at least, receive his blessing."

"He is not in this ship. Thou wilt find him on board the Minerva frigate; no doubt, he will not be denied. Stopthese few lines will aid thy request. Addio, signorira.'

"And may I carry hope with me, Eccellenza ?—Think how sweet life is to those who have passed their days, so long, in affluence and honour. It would be like a messenger from heaven, for a grandchild to bring but a ray of hope.' "I authorize none. The matter is in the hands of the Neapolitan authorities; and we English cannot meddle. Go, now, both of you—the illustrious admiral has business of importance, that presses."

Ghita turned, and slowly and sorrowfully she left the cabin. At its very door, she met the English lieutenant, who was in charge of the unhappy prisoner, coming with a last request that he might not be suspended like a thief, but might, at least, die the death of a soldier. It would exceed the limits set to our tale, were we to dwell on the conversation which ensued; but every intelligent reader knows, that the application failed.

CHAPTER XIV.

"Like other tyrants, Death delights to smite
What smitten most proclaims the pride of power,

And arbitrary nod."

YOUNG.

It is probable that Nelson never knew, precisely, what passed between Ghita and the lady mentioned in the last Chapter. At all events, like every other application that was made to the English admiral, in connection with this sad affair, that of Ghita produced no results. Even the mode of execution was unchanged; an indecent haste accompanying the whole transaction; as in the equally celebrated trial and death of the unfortunate Duc d'Enghien. Cuffe remained to dine with the commander in chief, while Carlo Giuntotardı and his niece got into their boat, and took their way, through the crowded roadstead, towards the Neapolitan frigate, that now formed the prison of the unfortunate Caraccioli.

A request, at the gangway, was all that was necessary, to procure an admission on board the ship. As soon as the Signor Giuntotardi reached the quarter-deck, he let his errand be known, and a messenger was sent below, to ascertain if the prisoner would see two visiters; the name of the uncle being alone given. Francesco Caraccioli, of the Princes Caraccioli, or, as he was more commonly called, in English, Prince Caraccioli, was now a man approaching seventy; and being a member of one of the most illustrious

houses of Lower Italy, he had long been trusted in employments of high dignity and command. On his offence—its apology-the indecent haste of his trial and execution, and the irregularity of the whole proceedings, it is now unnecessary to dwell; they have all passed into history, and are familiarly known to the world. That very morning had he been seized, and sent on board the Foudroyant ; — in the cabin of that vessel had a court of his own countrymen convened; and there had he been hastily condemned to death. The hour of doom was near; and he was already in the ship where the execution was to take place.

The messenger of Carlo Giuntotardi found this unfortunate man with his confessor; by whom he had just been shrived. He heard the request with cold indifference, but granted it on the instant, under the impression that it came from some dependent of his family, or estates, who had a last favour to ask, or an act of justice to see performed.

"Remain here, father, I beseech you," said the prisoner, perceiving that the priest was about to retire; "it is some contadino, or some tradesman, whose claims have been overlooked. I am happy that he has come; for one would wish to stand acquitted of injustice, before he dies. Let them come in, my friend."

A sign was given, with these words, the door of the cabin was opened, and Ghita, with her uncle, entered. A pause of quite a minute followed, during which the parties regarded each other in silence; the prisoner endeavouring, in vain, to recall the countenances of his guests, and the girl trembling, equally with grief and apprehension. Then the last advanced to the feet of the condemned man, knelt, bowed her head, and said

"Grandfather, your blessing, on the child of your only

son."

"Grandfather!-Son!-and his child!" repeated Don Francesco. "I had a son, to my shame and contrition be it now confessed; but he has long been dead. I never knew that he left a child."

"This is his daughter, Signore," replied Carlo Giunto. tardi; "her mother was my sister. You thought us, then, too humble to be received into so illustrious a connection;

and we have never wished to bring ourselves before your eyes, until we thought our presence might be welcome."

"And thou comest now, good man, to claim affinity with a condemned criminal!"

"Not so, grandfather," answered a meek voice, at his feet; "it is your son's daughter, that craves a blessing from her dying parent. The boon shall be well requited, in

prayers for your soul."

"Holy father! I deserve not this! Here has this tender plant lived, neglected in the shade, until it raises its timid. head to offer its fragrance in the hour of death! I deserve not this!"

"Son, if heaven offered no mercies, until they are merited, hopeless, truly, would be the lot of man. But we must not admit illusions, at such a moment. Thou art not a husband,

Don Francesco; hadst thou ever a son?"

"That, among other sins, have I long since confessed; and, as it has been deeply repented of, I trust it is forgiven. I had a son-a youth who bore my name, even; though he never dwelt in my palace; until a hasty and indiscreet marriage, banished him from my presence. I ever intended to pardon him, and to make provision for his wants; but death came too soon, to both husband and wife, to grant the time. This much I did know; and it grieved me that it was so; but, of his child, never, before this instant, have I heard! "Tis a sweet countenance, father; it seems the very abode of truth!"

66

Why should we deceive you, grandfather," rejoined Ghita, stretching her arms upward, as if yearning for an embrace; "most of all, at a time like this? We come not for honours, or riches, or your great name; we come simply to crave a blessing, and to let you know that a child of your own blood will be left on earth, to thy aves, in behalf of your soul!"

"Holy priest, there can be no deception, here!-This dear child even looks like her wronged grandmother; and my heart tells me she is mine. I know not whether to con sider this discovery a good or an evil, at this late hour; coming, as it does, to a dying man!"

"Grandfather, your blessing. Bless Ghita, once, that I may hear the sound of a parent's benediction."