CHAPTER IV.
Great Heaven! How frail thy creature Man is made! How by himself insensibly betrayed! In our own strength unhappily secure, Too little cautious of the adverse power, On pleasure's flowery brink we idly stray, Masters as yet of our returning way: Till the strong gusts of raging passion rise, Till the dire Tempest mingles earth and skies, And swift into the boundless Ocean borne, Our foolish confidence too late we mourn: Round our devoted heads the billows beat, And from our troubled view the lessening lands retreat.
Prior.
All this while, Ambrosio was unconscious of the dreadful scenes which were passing so near.

The execution of his designs upon Antonia employed his every thought.

Hitherto, He was satisfied with the success of his plans.

Antonia had drank the opiate, was buried in the vaults of St.Clare, and absolutely in his disposal.

Matilda, who was well acquainted with the nature and effects of the soporific medicine, had computed that it would not cease to operate till one in the Morning.