knowing the danger of her situation, and found himself unable to prevent
her fall, or even to forewarn her of the peril; for as we have already
observed, his soul could not brook the thought of communicating the
tidings of distress to the tender-hearted Monimia.




CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

RENALDO'S DISTRESS DEEPENS, AND FATHOM'S PLOT THICKENS.


Such aggravated misfortune could not fail to affect his temper and
deportment. The continual efforts he made to conceal his vexation
produced a manifest distraction in his behaviour and discourse. He began
to be seized with horror at the sight of poor Monimia, whom he therefore
shunned as much as the circumstances of their correspondence would allow;
and every evening he went forth alone to some solitary place, where he
could, unperceived, give a loose to the transports of his sorrow, and in
silence meditate some means to lighten the burden of his woe. His heart
was sometimes so savaged with despair, which represented mankind as his
inveterate enemies, that he entertained thoughts of denouncing war
against the whole community, and supplying his own wants with the spoils
he should win. At other times he was tempted with the desire of putting
an end to his miseries and life together. Yet these were but the
transitory suggestions of temporary madness, that soon yielded to the
dictates of reason. From the execution of the first he was restrained by
his own notions of honour and morality; and, from using the other
expedient, he was deterred by his love for Monimia, together with the