Any man that can write may answer a letter.

-Romeo and Juliet.

In such a tale as we now tell you, gentle reader, and when written within such limits, it is impossible to keep each portion of the plot equally advanced, or rather not to anticipate certain results.  There is also an advantage in this mode of arrangement which perhaps is in itself sufficient excuse for the author.  It heightens the plot, and renders it more absorbing to the reader, by suddenly laying before him some startling tableau and seeming inconsistency, but which the sequel of the story renders plain and reconcilable with other portions of the story.

Having said thus much for the scene we have presented to the reader at the roadside inn on the Apennines, we must now go back with him to the night on which Carlton delivered his letter of arrangement to Florinda, and thus render our tale plain to the comprehension of all.

Carlton, as we have said perfected his plan for the proposed elopement, and in another letter to Florinda he communicated the particulars, delivering the missive with his own hands as heretofore.  There was a certain hour agreed upon between them, in which Signora Florinda was to be at the balcony of her apartment every evening; and thus, although Carlton might not be able to hold much conversation with her, yet he could deliver any written paper he might desire, without the fear of interruption or detection.

It was necessary to accomplish all with the utmost secrecy in order to ensure success.  Now Petro had been led to suspect by some circumstances, that the meetings between Carlton and his cousin had been renewed.  He determined to ascertain if this was the case through his own personal observation; and on the occasion of the delivery of the letter in question, Petro being on the watch, discovered Carlton in the act, and also overheard the following appointment made by him with Florinda: 

“I will call for an answer at eleven, signora; I hope you may perfectly comprehend my plan and fully acquiesce in it.”

“At eleven?”

“At eleven, signora.”

“Hark, heard you not some one?”

“No, I heard nothing.”

“It sounded very near to the balcony.”

“In the street?”

“Yes; I am sure I heard someone.”

“Some passer-by, Florinda,” said Carlton.

“Pray thee be careful, Carlton, we may be watched.”

“I will be discreet; do not fear.”

“There, the figure is turning yonder street!”

“Ay, and pauses to observe us; I will away.  You will remember.”

“I will await you at that time, Carlton.”

“Good night, Florinda,” whispered Carlton, pressing the hand extended to him from over the balcony, just within reach.

“Good night.”  And they parted from each other, not daring to hold further conversation lest they might be observed, and their future plans suspected and defeated by the agents of her uncle.