hic delusions, simplicity, and dense ignorance of
Nature, we can never return, any more than the mature man can shrink
into the fresh boy again. Nor is it to be regretted. The distant in
time, like the distant in space, wears a halo, a vague, blue
loveliness, which is all unreal. The tired wayfarer, who is weary with
the dust, the din, and stony footing of the Actual and the Present, may
sometimes fondly imagine, that, if he could return to the far Past, he
would find all smooth and golden there; but it is a pleasant delusion
of that glorious arch-cheat, the Imagination. Yet if we cannot go back
to the Past, we can march forward to a Future, which opens a deeper and
more wondrous and airier vista, with its magicians of the Actual
casting into shade the puny achievements of old necromancy and mythic
agencies.

* * * * *

JUANITA.

Yes! I had, indeed, a glorious revenge! Other people have had home,
love, happiness; they have had fond caresses, tender cares, the bright
faces of children shining round the board. I had none of these; my
revenge has stood to me in place of them all. And it has stood well.

Love may change; loved ones may die; the fair-faced children may grow
up hard-hearted and ungrateful. But my revenge will not deceive or
disappoint me; it cannot change or pass away; it will last through Time
into Eternity.

I was left an orphan in early childhood. My father was an officer in
the American Navy; my mother a Spaniard. She was very beautiful, I
always heard; and her miniature, which my father's dying hand placed
about my neck, proclaimed her so. A pale, clear, olive tint, eyes of
thrilling blackness, long, lustrous hair, and a look of mingled
tenderness and melancholy made it, in my thought, the loveliest face
that mortal eyes could see.

My parents left me no fortune, and I fell to the care of my father's
only brother, a man of wealth and standing. I have no story to tell of
the bitterness of dependence,--of slights, and insult, and privation.
My uncle had married, somewhat late in life, a young and gentle woman;
when I was twelve years old she became the mother of twins,--two lovely
little girls. No one, unacquainted with the family history, could have
supposed that I was other than the elder sister of Florence and
Leonora. Every indulgence was granted me, every advantage of dress and
education bestowed upon me. So far as even I could see, my uncle and
aunt regarded m