you saw
the orange trees in flower, felt the evening breeze on your cheek;
beheld your child gay or sad, as you smiled or knit your brow; that
within this phantom home was a woman, not, indeed, all your young
romance might have dreamed of, but faithful and true, every beat of her
heart all your own--would you not cry from the depth of the dungeon, "O
fairy! such a change were a paradise." Ungrateful man! you want
interchange for your mind, and your heart should suffice for all!"

Riccabocca was touched and silent.

"Come hither, my child," said Mr. Dale, turning round to Violante, who
still stood among the flowers, out of hearing, but with watchful eyes.
"Come hither," he said, opening big arms.

Violante bounded forward, and nestled to the good man's heart.

"Tell me, Violante, when you are alone in the fields or the garden, and
have left your father looking pleased and serene, so that you have no
care for him at your heart,--tell me, Violante, though you are all
alone, with the flowers below and the birds singing overhead, do you
feel that life itself is happiness or sorrow?"

"Happiness!" answered Violante, half shutting her eyes, and in a
measured voice.

"Can you explain what kind of happiness it is?"

"Oh no, impossible! and it is never the same. Sometimes it is so
still--so still--and sometimes so joyous, that I long for wings to fly
up to God, and thank him!"

"O friend," said the Parson, "this is the true sympathy between life and
nature, and thus we should feel ever, did we take more care to preserve
the health and innocence of a child. We are told that we must become as
children to enter into the kingdom of heaven; methinks we should also
become as children to know what delight there is in our heritage of
earth!"

CHAPTER XVII.

The maid servant (for Jackeymo was in the fields) brought the table
under the awning, and, with the English luxury of tea, there were other
drinks as cheap and as grateful on summer evenings--drinks which
Jackeymo had retained and taught from the customs of the
south--unebriate liquors, pressed from cooling fruits, sweetened with
honey, and deliciously iced; ice should cost nothing in a country in
which one is frozen up half the year! And Jackeymo, too, had added to
our good, solid, heavy English bread, preparations of wheat much
lighter, and more propitious to digestion--with those crisp _grissins_,
which seem to enjoy being eaten, they make so pleasant a noise between