edding of souls. I know not how long it was before
I awoke out of a deep trance, and, hastily bowing, passed on into the
upper stair. She did not move, but followed me with her great, thirsting
eyes; and as I passed out of sight it seemed to me as if she paled and
faded.

In my own room, I opened the window and looked out, and could not think
what change had come upon that austere field of mountains that it should
thus sing and shine under the lofty heaven. I had seen her--Olalla! And
the stone crags answered, Olalla! and the dumb, unfathomable azure
answered, Olalla! The pale saint of my dreams had vanished for ever; and
in her place I beheld this maiden on whom God had lavished the richest
colours and the most exuberant energies of life, whom He had made active
as a deer, slender as a reed, and in whose great eyes He had lighted the
torches of the soul. The thrill of her young life, strung like a wild
animal's, had entered into me; the force of soul that had looked out
from her eyes and conquered mine, mantled about my heart and sprang to
my lips in singing. She passed through my veins: she was one with me.

I will not say that this enthusiasm declined; rather my soul held out in
its ecstasy as in a strong castle, and was there besieged by cold and
sorrowful considerations. I could not doubt but that I loved her at
first sight, and already with a quivering ardour that was strange to my
experience. What then was to follow? She was the child of an afflicted
house, the Senora's daughter, the sister of Felipe; she bore it even in
her beauty. She had the lightness and swiftness of the one, swift as an
arrow, light as dew; like the other, she shone on the pale background of
the world with the brilliancy of flowers. I could not call by the name
of brother that half-witted lad, nor by the name of mother that
immovable and lovely thing of flesh, whose silly eyes and perpetual
simper now recurred to my mind like something hateful. And if I could
not marry, what then? She was helplessly unprotected; her eyes, in that
single and long glance, which had been all our intercourse, had
confessed a weakness equal to my own; but in my heart I knew her for the
student of the cold northern chamber, and the writer of the sorrowful
lines; and this was a knowledge to disarm a brute. To flee was more than
I could find courage for; but I registered a vow of unsleeping
circumspection.

As I turned from the window, my eyes alighted on the port