lissima!--Viola!"

She turned, and saw Glyndon. The sight of his fair young face calmed her
at once. His presence gave her pleasure.

"Viola," said the Englishman, taking her hand, and drawing her again
to the bench from which she had risen, as he seated himself beside her,
"you shall hear me speak! You must know already that I love thee! It has
not been pity or admiration alone that has led me ever and ever to thy
dear side; reasons there may have been why I have not spoken, save by
my eyes, before; but this day--I know not how it is--I feel a more
sustained and settled courage to address thee, and learn the happiest or
the worst. I have rivals, I know,--rivals who are more powerful than the
poor artist; are they also more favoured?"

Viola blushed faintly; but her countenance was grave and distressed.
Looking down, and marking some hieroglyphical figures in the dust with
the point of her slipper, she said, with some hesitation, and a vain
attempt to be gay, "Signor, whoever wastes his thoughts on an actress
must submit to have rivals. It is our unhappy destiny not to be sacred
even to ourselves."

"But you do not love this destiny, glittering though it seem; your heart
is not in the vocation which your gifts adorn."

"Ah, no!" said the actress, her eyes filling with tears. "Once I loved
to be the priestess of song and music; now I feel only that it is a
miserable lot to be slave to a multitude."

"Fly, then, with me," said the artist, passionately; "quit forever the
calling that divides that heart I would have all my own. Share my fate
now and forever,--my pride, my delight, my ideal! Thou shalt inspire my
canvas and my song; thy beauty shall be made at once holy and renowned.
In the galleries of princes, crowds shall gather round the effigy of a
Venus or a Saint, and a whisper shall break forth, 'It is Viola Pisani!'
Ah! Viola, I adore thee; tell me that I do not worship in vain."

"Thou art good and fair," said Viola, gazing on her lover, as he pressed
nearer to her, and clasped her hand in his; "but what should I give thee
in return?"

"Love, love,--only love!"

"A sister's love?"

"Ah, speak not with such cruel coldness!"

"It is all I have for thee. Listen to me, signor: when I look on your
face, when I hear your voice, a certain serene and tranquil calm creeps
over and lulls thoughts,--oh, how feverish, how wild! When thou art
gone, the day seems a shade more dark; but the shadow soon flies. I
miss