He looked wildly round him, expecting that some dreadful Apparition would meet his eyes, the sight of which would drive him mad.

A cold shivering seized his body, and He sank upon one knee, unable to support himself.
'He comes!' exclaimed Matilda in a joyful accent.
Ambrosio started, and expected the Daemon with terror.

What was his surprize, when the Thunder ceasing to roll, a full strain of melodious Music sounded in the air.

At the same time the cloud dispersed, and He beheld a Figure more beautiful than Fancy's pencil ever drew.

It was a Youth seemingly scarce eighteen, the perfection of whose form and face was unrivalled.