Her friend had once presumed to encroach on her freedom; this attempt was with her an unpardonable offence, and the discovery of his having acted so indiscreetly in his own affairs, had not given her the most favourable opinion of his understanding and his character; notwithstanding the decrease of her affection, her assiduity for him had redoubled.  He did not, however, remark the great change which had really taken place; her anxiety for his recovery, her watching for hours at his bedside, appeared to him rather proofs of friendship and love, than the effects of compassion, and he hoped, on his recovery, to be re-instated in all his former rights.

But how greatly was he mistaken!  In proportion as his health and strength returned, all tenderness and affection for him vanished; nay, her aversion for him now was equal to the pleasure with which she formerly regarded him.  He had also, in consequence of these multiplied reverses, contracted a habit of ill-humour, of which he was himself not aware, and which greatly contributed to alienate Antonelli.  His own bad management in business he attributed to others; so that, in his opinion, he was perfectly justified.  He looked upon himself as an unfortunate man, persecuted by the world, and hoped for an equivalent to all his sufferings and misfortunes in the undivided affection of his mistress.

This concession he insisted on, the first day he was able to leave his chamber, and visit her.  He demanded nothing less than that she should resign herself up to him entirely, dismiss her other friends and acquaintances, leave the stage, and live solely with him, and for him.  She showed him the impossibility of granting his demands, at first mildly, but was at last obliged to confess the melancholy truth, that their former relation existed no more.  He left her, and never saw her again.

He lived some years longer, seeing but few acquaintances, and chiefly in the company of a pious old lady, with whom he occupied the same dwelling, and who lived on the rent of an adjoining house, her only income.  During this interval, he gained one of his law-suits, and soon after the other; but his health was destroyed, and his future prospects blasted.  A slight cause brought on a relapse of his former illness; the physician acquainted him with his approaching end.  He was resigned to his fate, and his only remaining wish was, once more to see his lovely friend.  He sent the servant to her, who, in more happy days, had often been the bearer of tender messages.  He prayed her to grant his request:  she refused.  He sent a second time, entreating most ardently she might not be deaf to his prayers, with no better success.  She persisted in her first answer.  The night was already far advanced, when he sent a third time; she showed great agitation, and confided to me the cause of her embarrassment, (for I had just happened to be at supper, at her house, with the Marquess, and some other friends.) I advised her—­I entreated her, to show her friend this last act of kindness.  She seemed undecided, and in great emotion; but after a few moments she became more collected.  She sent away the servant with a refusal, and he returned no more.