breast—then, said he, looking up to heaven, thou hast conducted me to the end of my pilgrimage.—’Tis Diego .
The traveller was the brother of the Julia , so often invoked that night by the stranger as he rode from Strasburg upon his mule; and was come, on her part, in quest of him. He had accompanied his sister from Valadolid across the Pyrenean mountains through France , and had many an entangled skein to wind off in pursuit of him through the many meanders and abrupt turnings of a lover’s thorny tracks.
⸺ Julia had sunk under it⸻and had not been able to go a step farther than to Lyons , where, with the many disquietudes of a tender heart, which all talk of⸺but few feel—she sicken’d, but had just strength to write a letter to Diego ; and having conjured her brother never to see her face till he had found him out, and put the letter into his hands, Julia took to her bed.
Fernandez (for that was her brother’s name)⸺though the camp-bed was as soft as any one in Alsace , yet he could not shut his eyes in it.⸺As soon as it was day he rose, and hearing Diego was risen too, he entered his chamber, and discharged his sister’s commission.
The letter was as follows:
“ Seig. Diego , “Whether my suspicions of your nose were justly excited or not⸻’tis not now to inquire—it is enough I have not had firmness to put them to farther tryal. “How could I know so little of myself, when I sent my Duenna to forbid your coming more under my lattice? or how could I know so little of you, Diego , as to imagine you would not have stayed one day in Valadolid to have