chill apathy of despair. Frederic could not but be aware that her wound was deep, but his own had been deadly; and he considered that one who had deserted him for the mere advantages of fortune could be vulnerable no where but in her vanity. Still the bitter words which his ruined affection had addressed to her had recoiled with a stunning force. If she was the scorned Marchesa, she had been the adored Teresina.

"We part," he said, in an altered and melancholy voice, "for the last time, and it will be yet another grief to me to know that I have given you pain. Let me atone for it by beseeching you to forget me-your illustrious station demands it of you-or, if you will think of me, let it be only as of one too faithful to the thrilling thought of toiling for his Teresina to be able to profit by the noble generosity of the Marchesa."

He turned to depart, and she withheld him not-his farewell was unheard-and in another moment the ponderous iron doors of the palazzo had closed behind him, as he felt, for

ever.

The feelings of Frederic, when his brain had become sufficiently calm to contemplate what had passed, were not less cruel and overwhelming than they had been at the first news of Teresina's marriage. Whatever they had been on that occasion, he had retained the consciousness that the injury which he had received was unmerited. He had reviewed his conduct with his heart's approval. He had been devoted, he had never inflicted a pang, he had never committed the outrage of a doubt. The case was now different. He had seen Teresina imploring in vain, protesting her innocence unbelieved, and struck dumb with anguish. There was an appearance of truth in the few impassioned words of her defence, which seemed beyond the reach of art, and, if it were not art, he had behaved like a monster. Sometimes he almost overcame the morbid acuteness of pride, which is said to be so incidental to his country, and was in the act of returning to assure himself that he had not been guilty of injustice. His love, which, instead of being destroyed, had seemed to quicken with the tortures of its ordeal, threatened to whirl

him back to implore her to forgive and re-construct his nature. Then came the insidious consideration of the aspect which such a measure might assume. He had betrayed no impulse of love to make allowance for her, or even to listen to her he had been restrained by no suggestion of common humanity from expressions which seemed to cut her to the soul. What then could be supposed to bring him back to her presence, but the more deliberate recollection of the splendours he had rejected? This thought was fatal. Had Teresina been desolate in fortune, as she was in feeling, her happiness had been decided. It now depended upon the line which she might chance to adopt, whilst in ignorance that the balance was still wavering; and that she should desire a repetition of the scene she had undergone was scarcely to be expected.

Three days passed, and Frederic received no message from Teresina to return. He began to offer himself bitter congratulations that he had not done so uninvited. Her suffering, as he at first supposed, could have been nothing but mortification at being rejected by one so

humble, and doubtless her unsteady regard for him had now settled down to scorn and hatred. If ever he heard of her again, he persuaded himself it would be by some act of Roman vengeance to punish the pauper's insolence, and tie his tongue from betraying her.

The fourth day came, and with it the means of estimating how far his imagination had done her justice. He had, with a determined effort to concentrate his energies, and hide the torture that had scattered them, resumed his occupation in the studio of which he was the pride, and was cleaving the undulations of beauty from a model of forlorn recollection. Visiters, as usual, came and went, but he neither heard their remarks nor turned to behold them. At length he was startled by an inquiry for his own name, and, turning upon his low scaffold, encountered persons of an official aspect, apparently with some object of importance. He had no sooner acknowledged himself to be the person sought than he was saluted with profuse deference and congratulation as the Marchese di ! The vast

estates had been legally transferred to his pos

session, every particle from the richest palace to the most barren crag, and had conveyed every title and distinction enjoyed by those who had preceded him. The chisel dropped from his hands, and his visage became bloodless.

"And the Marchesa!" he exclaimed; "the Marchesa Teresina?"

"No longer the Marchesa, of which addition she is divested by the relinquishment of the Marquisate, but the simple Signora Teresina. Some mystery in life, which she has not thought proper to explain, has induced her to withdraw from it; and, to the astonishment and grief of all Rome, she is believed to have retired to the cloister. Her declared motive for the present disposal of what would probably have wedded to the world any other being upon earth, is her desire to leave it to the person most worthy to enjoy it. No other particulars are known, nor the place of her retreat.

This, then, was the anticipated scorn and hatred this was the Roman vengeance! Teresina had been the only hope, the only joy,