s I warned you once to prepare for sorrow itself, that I am now your
guest. The Englishman, Glyndon, loves thee well,--better, perhaps, than
I can ever love; if not worthy of thee, yet, he has but to know thee
more to deserve thee better. He may wed thee, he may bear thee to his
own free and happy land,--the land of thy mother's kin. Forget me; teach
thyself to return and deserve his love; and I tell thee that thou wilt
be honoured and be happy."

Viola listened with silent, inexpressible emotion, and burning blushes,
to this strange address, and when he had concluded, she covered her face
with her hands, and wept. And yet, much as his words were calculated to
humble or irritate, to produce indignation or excite shame, those were
not the feelings with which her eyes streamed and her heart swelled. The
woman at that moment was lost in the child; and AS a child, with all its
exacting, craving, yet innocent desire to be loved, weeps in unrebuking
sadness when its affection is thrown austerely back upon itself,--so,
without anger and without shame, wept Viola.

Zanoni contemplated her thus, as her graceful head, shadowed by its
redundant tresses, bent before him; and after a moment's pause he drew
near to her, and said, in a voice of the most soothing sweetness, and
with a half smile upon his lip,--

"Do you remember, when I told you to struggle for the light, that I
pointed for example to the resolute and earnest tree? I did not tell
you, fair child, to take example by the moth, that would soar to the
star, but falls scorched beside the lamp. Come, I will talk to thee.
This Englishman--"

Viola drew herself away, and wept yet more passionately.

"This Englishman is of thine own years, not far above thine own rank.
Thou mayst share his thoughts in life,--thou mayst sleep beside him
in the same grave in death! And I--but THAT view of the future should
concern us not. Look into thy heart, and thou wilt see that till again
my shadow crossed thy path, there had grown up for this thine equal a
pure and calm affection that would have ripened into love. Hast thou
never pictured to thyself a home in which thy partner was thy young
wooer?"

"Never!" said Viola, with sudden energy,--"never but to feel that such
was not the fate ordained me. And, oh!" she continued, rising suddenly,
and, putting aside the tresses that veiled her face, she fixed her eyes
upon the questioner,--"and, oh! whoever thou art that thus wouldst read
my