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should like to be like that woman we saw
last night. VVhat did you say she was?”
“ Do you mean the actress who was con-
versing with your mamma ? "
“ Yes, I should want to be like her. In
the first place, she is very beautiful-I never
saw such eyes before ! Then Gina told me
that she dressed like a queen at the theatre,
and that every one cheered her, and threw
(lowers at her feet. She must be happy.”
“ Why so?”
“ Because every one is proud of her. I
heard. my mamma say that she was the most
gifted woman she ever knew. What is
gifted ? ”
“ You would be gifted if you could act
like her. But gifted people are not always
happy. If your mamma and papa should
die, you would be all alone-what good
would the applause and tloweis do you
then ? "
“ I should call them mamma and papa,”
was the ready reply. “I could live with my
guitar--it would be all the friend I should
want if they left me. Auntie, don't you
think I can sing well enough to make every
one throw flowers at my feet-I mean when
I am older and larger? "
“Perhaps so. But I hope you will not
wish to do this. You will not be happy.”
“ I should not mind that, if I could only
be great. Every one is unhappy.”
“ Hark!” said Jael suddenly. “ Who is
that in the other room with your mamma? ”
“ Only the Lady Beatrice. Her gondola
just came up. Are you going to her? ”
“I-I don't know. Go to your numuna
now my love. I wish to be alone.”
The child hold up her little mouth for a
parting kiss, and stole from the room, but
not to her mother’s side. She passed out
into the balcony, and seated herself where
she could look out upon the water. The
sky above her was of a soft, silvery hue-
far away in the west it glowed with crimson
and purple--the regal robes of the dying
god of day. There she sat, with wide open
eyes, and thoughtful face, till the yellow
moon rose up, and the stars looked down
upon her-her heart and brain working with
strange, wild thoughts.
J ael listened to the sound of the sweet, fa-
miliar voice, as she tried to busy herself with
the books before her. The evening came steal-
ing on-it grew too dark to write. She rose
from her seat, and paced slowly to and fro,
munnuring snatches of poems that she had
heard or written. And even that faint,
sweet voice, chimed in with a low melody,
like the symphony of a lute. She tried in
vain to forget the speaker. Through her
brain kept wandering the one thought:
“ What will Beatrice say? Will she bear
the tidings with a brave heart? Have I
ever deceived her by any look or action ‘I
Have I ever, as Lionel, given her reuon to
think I loved her-that I would win her for
my bride ? "
She could not recall a single instance
where she had failed in her reserve. Her
conduct had been guarded in the extreme,
and yet the evil deed was done.
And that voice haunted her like a voice
from the spirit land. She cursed her star,
which shed such a beautiful light on all
around.
Suddenly the name which she had so
lately borne, fell upon her ear. She paused
and listened-it was Beatrice who spoke.
“Te1lmc of Lionel," said she, earnestly,
“ if you know aught of him. For three
long weeks I have not looked upon his face.
His rooms are deserted‘, no one knows
where he is gone. Do you know, Olive?"
“ You will never see him again, Bentr
Forget him; it is the wisest way.”
“For the sake of the blessed Virgin,"
gasped Beatrice, turning pale, and clasping
her hands, “ tell me, has he left Venice ? ”
“ Have I not already said you would nev-
er sec him again?” replied Olive, eva-
sively.
Beatrice groancd with anguish.
“ O! thisistoo cruel!” said she, fiercely.
“ He was always cold toward me, but I did
not deserve this ! My only sin was in lov-
ing him; he might have forgiven that!
Why did I ever see him ? Why did he sit
day after day beside me, thrilling my heart
with the deep, musical tones of his voice,
and the earnest glances of his eyes? He
must have known I loved him; I have be-
trayed it a thousand times, and in a thou-
sand different ways. If he cared nothing
for me, or if he was not free to love me,
why did he not tell me so at once, and
leave me while I could have borne his de-
sertion? God help mel Olive, do men
know the meaning of the word honor? "
“No man wishes to draw upon himself
the imputation of conceit, Beatrice. It
would seem strange to us, if every one
should say, ‘ Do not love me; I cannot re-
turn your aifection.’ Should we not be apt
to dislike them, because they thought a
woman's heart could be so easily won?
And yet, I agree with you, I sympathize
with you. There should be a fair under-
standing on both sides, in such cases. I be-
lieved Lionel to be honorable; why did he
attempt to deceive you ? ”
Beatrice looked up with a contritc
glance.
“ My passion blinded me," said she, “ and
an Italian maiden is frank and free. She
uses not subterfuges; she speaks out brave-
ly the sentiments of her heart. But even,
in a moment of anger, I will not wrong one
who is so dear to me. Lionel is the soul of
honor. If he was too modest to believe he
had won my heart, he should not be blamed
for a fault which is certainly very rare
among his sex. My own folly has brought
this misery upon me. Had I been true to
the vows I once uttered, all would have
been well. I loved your brother, once, 01-
ive, but never, never as I loved this man-
never as I love him now, deserted and do-
spised as I am. Philip is noble, and good,
and very dear to me; but this other-I can-
not describe the strange induence he has
acquired over me. If you had ever felt it,
you would understand me."
“ Listen, Beatrice. When I was very
young, circumstances threw me in the way
of a distinguished physician, in my native
land. He was married, and many years
my senior. I looked up to him for counsel
and friendship; but the idea of love be-
tween him and me, never entered my mind.
I believe he wished to try an experiment
with me; I can give no other reason for his
conduct. In his youth he had led a dissi-
pated life; in his manhood ho was dead to
the nobler and purer feelings of the heart,
though their language was ever on his lips.
Beatrice, the life of that man was aliving
lie. He claimed to be an apostle of free-
dom; at heart, he ridiculed the idea. I
heard him deliver a lecture, once; he seem-
ed to enter into his subject heart and soul.
Words of tire fell from his lips; glances
which no heart could withstand shot from
his eyes. His audience hung onraptured
on his words; you might have heard a pin
fall, so hushed was the silence of that night's
mass of human beings. Only his low, mu-
W%.3?lit?%e..?ii;ls%%r-
. wound up with an appeal which found its
way to every heart, and drew tears from
many eyes. There was a profound silence
for a moment, as he took his seat; then a
storm of applause thundered out that shook
that huge hall to its "oundations. I sat he-
sidc him; I saw his lip curl with a. scomful
smile as he bowed low in acknowledment
of the honor. He was chuckling inwardly
at their folly. Do you think Lionel, your
noble Lioncl, would do thus ? ”
“ Never! He is too true to his own high
nature to degrade it.”
“Just so fondly I believed of this man,
Beatrice. Even that fiend-like smile did
not undeceive me. I persuaded myself
that it was a. freak of my imagination. I
accompanied him home. I gave myself up
to his guidance entirely. I became his pu-
pil in the profession he had chosen. His
wife was a singularly gifted woman. Her
name thrilled many hearts, but she turned
from the world to lay her laulels at his feet.
Fame was only dear to her because her
light shone upon his path. That woman,
with all her talent, yet clings to him, all un
conscious of the farce he is playing. I will
never undeceive her. She is happy in her
ignorance of his duplicity, his meanness,
and I will never make her miserable by
giving her wisdom. Some eyes, Beatrice,
are too weak to bear the blaze of Truth.
Do you weary of my story ? ”
“ 0, no. Go on; let me know the
whole.“
“ Some few days passed away before my
prophet began to unveil himself; at last he
spoke his real sentiments. He said he
loved me; that he needed my alfection. I
was astonished. I spoke of his wife; but
he avcrred that there was no real sympathy
between them. In me, he said, he had
found that for which he had so long sought
-a spirit free, pure, and fearless. I had
too much courage, he said, to listen to the
snares of the world, while my conscience
reproachcd me not Then he taught me
his own peculiar doctrines. Marriage, he
said, was an old and worn-out institution.
The eyes of men were opened to its folly,
and the laws of the heart were alone to be
recognized as divine in the coming time.
I should be one of the first to‘ assert my
holy freedom; I should bear this banner of
Truth; my foot should first scale the wall
of Custom. In that glorious struggle I
should conquer, and though many might re-
vile and scorn me, living, they would honor
and imitate me, dead. Generally speaking,
I have no peculiar taste for martyrdom, or
for honors which come too late; such prom-
ises could better entrap Ja-Lionel, than
me. But at that time I should have believ-
ed in the Koran, if he had expounded it to
me; and I willingly embraced the new docs
trinc, because he was its originator and dc-
feuder. I thought I loved him; I now
know that what I felt was simply the mag-
netic inlluence he exerted over me. Ihum-
bled myself before him. How many times
have I sat, in my lonely study, listening to
his footstep pacing to and fun in the hall
beyond me, not daring to summon him to
my side, or to join him, without permission l
How often, when he at last entered, after
my heart had grown weary with watching,
have I laid my head upon his breast, and
lifted my eyes thankfully to his face. only
to read that strange, sarcastic smile them 1
It used to chill and terrify me, yet I could
never understand it. I am wiser, now. I
know there was much of ‘tho orignal Ad.
am ’ in his lic.1rt,and he rejoiced to see how
sical, earnest voice broke the stillness. Ho
1 8 1
I hate him. now ; I hate myself, because I
was ever weak enough to imagine I loved
him. He never cared for me; he only
playcrl with my feelings as the wind plays
with the straws that lie in its path ; he tot-
mcntcd my heart, as a boy teases some free,
wild bird, till in its agony it dashes itself
against the bars of its prison, and expires,
while he looks curiously on its dying struggle.
One calm evening he came to me without
disguise ; I saw him as he was. Surely the
quiet beauty of the night should have given
him purer thoughts l He would have
wronged me, Beatrice! He would have de-
gradcd me! He asked me to give up all for
him-to cast away my name, my reputation,
and my own self respect, fora passion which
would have seen died away, and left me lone-
ly. This was the love I had deemed so pure;
it lay before my eyes in allits disgusting de-
formity. Passion was the only thing which
bound him to me; and when I saw this I
turned from him and wept bitterly. I was
young, and the world was new to me. I
knew not that the heart of man is never pure;
that no woman can cherish an innocent love
for one of the opposite sex, without having
her motives misconstrued, and her feelings
wounded by words of insulting and degra-
ding passion-and my disappointment was
very bitterl He was angry because I would
not fly with him; he would have despised
me, had I done so. I preferred to lose his
love rather than his esteem, and with my
voice choked with sobs, I bade him farewell.
My heart was nearly broken, and he knew
it, yet as I turned away, he sat there carc-
lessly humming an opera air, and pulling the
cars of a cat that had jumped upon his knee.
So he let me go, adding insult to injury, and
giving me no kind word or look, though he
knew our parting was an eternal one."
Olive had been speaking rapidly and
earnestly, she paused for a moment, and then
added in a more composed “ Well,
he was not worth the tears I shed for him!
Thank ll?-“en l that time has long since
gone by, and I could meet him now without
the least emotion. If Lionel has ever spa.
ken such words to you, I charge you to for-
get him; be wise, Beatrice-there is a myse
tery about him, which, when it is explained.
will change your feelings; you will yet love
my brother-and when you are his happy
wife, we will laugh together over the romance
and the folly of our earlier lives. Such
wounds are deep, and when we first feel the
pain, we believe they can never be healed.
Alas! for the folly of human hearts! In a
short time, not even a tear remains. We
are notso weak as we would gladly think
ourselves-for time and change work
wonders.”
“ Lionel has never deceived me as this
man decived you. He never said he loved
me. Only once did a syllable of tenderness
fall from his lips, and then his embarras-
ment showed that ho regretted it. I had
not even, the poor consolation of knowing
that he en wasted one thought on me.
And yet, why should I complain ; the course
he adopted, was the only one he could pur-
sue with honor. But you spoke of 3 mys-
tery, 0HV%mll me, What, you mean, Wu
he already bound to another ?"
“ He was free, Beatrice, and yet he could
never have been yours ; you can forget him,
if you will; a woman's heart is never so
weak as poets and romanoers would have it.”
“ Olive, you have outlived your romance.
I tell you that the thought of giving him up,
is like the sharp stroke of a dagger in my
heart.”
well he could play the part of a charlatan.
['m In; (‘U.Vl“lNUIlh.]