Lorenzo witnessed with admiration her beautiful person, elegant manners, innumerable talents, and sweet disposition: he was also much flattered by her prejudice in his favour, which she had not sufficient art to conceal. However, his sentiments partook not of that ardent character which had marked his affection for Antonia. The image of that lovely and unfortunate girl still lived in his heart, and baffled all Virginia’s efforts to displace it. Still when the duke proposed to him the match, which he wished so earnestly to take place, his nephew did not reject the offer. The urgent supplications of his friends, and the lady’s merit conquered his repugnance to entering into new engagements. He proposed himself to the Marquis de Villa-Franca, and was accepted with joy and gratitude. Virginia became his wife, nor did she ever give him cause to repent his choice. His esteem increased for her daily. Her unremitted endeavours to please him could not but succeed. His affection assumed stronger and warmer colours. Antonia’s image was gradually effaced from his bosom; and Virginia became sole mistress of that heart, which she well deserved to possess without a partner.

The remaining years of Raymond and Agnes, of Lorenzo and Virginia, were happy as can be those allotted to mortals, born to be the prey of grief, and sport of disappointment. The exquisite sorrows with which they had been afflicted, made them think lightly of every succeeding woe. They had felt the sharpest darts in misfortune’s quiver; those which remained appeared blunt in comparison. Having weathered fate’s heaviest storms, they looked calmly upon its terrors: or if ever they felt affliction’s casual gales, they seemed to them gentle as zephyrs which breathe over summer-seas.