Thou speakest of fascination,--it lives and it breathes in thee! I fled from Naples to fly from thy presence,--it pursued me.
Months, years passed, and thy sweet face still shone upon my heart.

I returned, because I pictured thee alone and sorrowful in the world, and knew that dangers, from which I might save thee, were gathering near thee and around.

Beautiful Soul! whose leaves I have read with reverence, it was for thy sake, thine alone, that I would have given thee to one who might make thee happier on earth than I can.

Viola! Viola! thou knowest not--never canst thou know--how dear thou art to me!" It is in vain to seek for words to describe the delight--the proud, the full, the complete, and the entire delight--that filled the heart of the Neapolitan.

He whom she had considered too lofty even for love,--more humble to her than those she had half-despised! She was silent, but her eyes spoke to him; and then slowly, as aware, at last, that the human love had advanced on the ideal, she shrank into the terrors of a modest and virtuous nature.