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348 a pleasure in once more, after lengthened solitude, being the subject of that sweet, reverent adoration ; and she had inspired him with an unspeakable com- passion for her fate, which could not let him muse without anxiety upon that fate's inevitable future. There had been a time when the lavishness of his gifts and the influence of his word could have lifted her into happiness as easily as a flower is transplanted into sunlight from the shade ; but that time was far away. He felt the hardest pang of poverty to those of generous nature : he had nothing to give.

He had offered the promise, and he would redeem it, because she was motherless and defenceless, and therefore sacred to him ; but he stood and looked at the flower-crowned painting w^ith a pang of regret.

"It is a harsh mercy that he asks of me," he thought ; " and yet what else should be the end ? Love is no toy for me now ; and she is worthier of a happier fate than to be the passing fancy, the consola- tion of an horn', to a worn and wearied life."

On the morrow, ere the sun was high, he was far from Vallombrosa.

END OF VOL. II.

LONDON :

PniXTKU BY C. IVHITING, LKACFORT HOUSE, STKAND.