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I arrived at Geneva. My father and Ernest yet lived, but the

former sunk under the tidings that I bore. I see him now,

excellent and venerable old man! His eyes wandered in vacancy,

for they had lost their charm and their delight-his Elizabeth,

his more than daughter, whom he doted on with all that affection

which a man feels, who in the decline of life, having few

affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain. Cursed,

cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs and

doomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not live under the

horrors that were accumulated around him; the springs of

existence suddenly gave way; he was unable to rise from his bed,

and in a few days he died in my arms.