d the Carmelite,
and looking into his face with ingenuous confidence and habitual
reverence, she besought his blessing. When the solemn and customary
office was performed, the monk turned towards the companion of his
spiritual charge. Donna Florinda permitted the silk, on which her needle
had been busy, to fall into her lap, and she sat in meek silence, while
the Carmelite raised his open palms towards her bended head. His lips
moved, but the words of benediction were inaudible. Had the ardent being
intrusted to their joint care been less occupied with her own feelings,
or more practised in the interests of that world into which she was
about to enter, it is probable she would have detected some evidence of
that deep but smothered sympathy, which so often betrayed itself in the
silent intelligence of her ghostly father and her female Mentor.

"Thou wilt not forget us, Father?" said Violetta, with winning
earnestness. "An orphan girl, in whose fate the sages of the Republic so
seriously busy themselves, has need of every friend in whom she can
confide."

"Blessed be thy intercessor," said the monk, "and the peace of the
innocent be with thee."

Once more he waved his hand, and turning, he slowly quitted the room.
The eye of Donna Florinda followed the white robes of the Carmelite,
while they were visible; and when it fell again upon the silk, it was
for a moment closed, as if looking at the movements of the rebuked
spirit within. The young mistress of the palace summoned a menial, and
bade him do honor to her confessor, by seeing him to his gondola. She
then moved to the open balcony. A long pause succeeded; it was such a
silence, breathing, thoughtful, and luxurious with the repose of Italy,
as suited the city and the hour. Suddenly Violetta receded from the open
window, and withdrew a step, in alarm.

"Is there a boat beneath?" demanded her companion, whose glance was
unavoidably attracted to the movement.

"The water was never more quiet. But thou hearest those strains of the
hautboys?"

"Are they so rare on the canals, that they drive thee from the balcony?"

"There are cavaliers beneath the windows of the Mentoni palace;
doubtless they compliment our friend Olivia."

"Even that gallantry is common. Thou knowest that Olivia is shortly to
be united to her kinsman, and he takes the usual means to show his
admiration."

"Dost thou not find this public announcement of a passion painful? Were
I to be wooed, I