and poverty to rank and wealth was a circumstance so out of the nature of things, especially in Italy, where conditions only altered to decay, that she listened to the project of Frederic in despair.

"Part!" she exclaimed with a low tremor, which showed the desolating effect of the bare word; 66 are we not happy as we are? Too happy to run the risk of change! Frederic, your ardent imagination will lead you only to disappointment, and where will be the love to aid you in sustaining it? O! Frederic, remain; and, whilst we meet unmolested in these scenes which you call so exquisite, let us not deserve to forfeit our lot by growing discontented."

Frederic had wound himself up to such a pitch of determination to do wonders, that he was proof against all discouragement; spoke

n the proud language of a superior of the accidental advantages of birth and fortune, and asked where would have been the memory of the worldly great, had it not been handed down by the more sublime nobility of genius. The course of those who travelled amongst the stars

could not be calculated by the dull progress of the wingless being that never soared from earth a single year, a magic hour, might build him a monument in the waste of ages. "This," continued the excited young German, “is the contemplation to which I would bring my Teresina. These are the daring pinions on which her thoughts must lead me, and let her never doubt that the spirit which she has kindled will closely follow."

Teresina answered with a glow of Roman pride." If I doubt your genius, Frederic, for what is it that I love you? No; it is the > genius to estimate it which I doubt. You think me devoid of courage, but where, in the world's degenerate perception of superiority, are the materials for hope? If they but existed, the soul of the poor girl of Rome would afford them room as readily as that endless waste of ruins could again give space to the heroes who made its history. Oh, could I be tried! Were my courage to be proved by endurance, by sacrifice!"

The dreams of genius were too strong for the arguments of reason. The plaintive beauty

of the scene, of the association, and, above all, of the forlorn Teresina, were insufficient to seduce the determined spirit of her lover. They parted with all the grief of a first parting, the one borne up by a daring confidence in the future, the other sinking beneath the discouraging aspect of the present.

7

Months passed, but the serene absence, of positive sorrow existed for Teresina no longer. The scenes of beauty wherein she might have waned away her life in tranquillity had, every one of them, some memorial of a bliss which she had only enjoyed to be sensible of its loss. The melancholy which had characterized her formerly was now an expression of care. The simple occupations which had dimpled the dull placidity of a life devoid of purpose were forgotten in an interest which interfered no otherwise with her state, than by adding to the monotonous a sensation of aching intensity.

From Frederic she had heard, and expected to hear, nothing. In the height of his rash confidence, he had declared that she should hear from him no more till he was thought worthy to obtain her; and a certain degree of

morbid and pertinacious pride was likely to keep him to his word. In the slender society which was open to her, and in which she was thrown but rarely, his name indeed was sometimes mentioned amongst others of his profession, but little transpired to cheer her. It was said that there were more professors than patrons, that interest was more needful than talent, and that the triumphs of art had ceased for centuries. She listened with the endurance she had boasted, but her heart was not the less wrung with the picture of his failure, the decline of his self-estimation, the wounded pride which might cause him to abjure her sight for ever. Oh for some project to snatch them both from the exposure to this anguish!—Oh for any sacrifice of herself to save that spirit from the humiliation to which it was destined!

Shortly before this period, circumstances. had, for a season, called her lofty relation, the Marchese, to Rome, for the first time since she had grown up. He was a nobleman of high character, and, though far advanced in life, retained a kindliness of feeling which, in other days, had made a stately person and gifted in

tellect the objects of love, no less than admiration. The mind and beauty of Teresina were of a quality unlooked-for; her parents had been long dead; and the connexions who had succeeded to the charge of her were of a degree so distant as to be scarcely traceable. case was touching, and he decided that something must be done for her.

Her

The more the Marchese conversed with her, the more he had cause to wonder at the work of nature which, to appearance, had superseded all necessity for the cultivation which had been denied to her the more he was attracted by the noble blood which displayed itself in every thought she uttered. Her heart palpitated at each advance of favour, as an omen of good fortune to her Frederic. For the first time in her life, her efforts to confer pleasure, to obtain the influence of affection, were founded in a double interest. The Marchese had not entirely forgotten the gallantry of his youth, was a ready example that the old, as well as the young, are not insensible to the flattery of attention, and began to call to mind that he had paid his late Marchesa the respect of remaining long a widower.