"All I lived for, all I loved, are gone." "Be comforted, sir," said Nizza, in a commiserating tone.

"Much happiness may yet be in store for you." "That voice!" exclaimed the sick man, with a look denoting the approach of delirium.

"It must be my Isabella.

Oh! forgive me! sweet injured saint; forgive me!" "Your presence evidently distresses him," said Leonard.

"Let us hasten for assistance.