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Rh indulged in the romance born of enthusiasm and ignorance—let them recall the visions in which their youth delighted, while they smile at their folly, or sigh over their sweetness. Moreover, the lover and the friend ask very different foundations for their confidence. The one invests all things with the poetry with which himself is imbued; the other, of necessity, examines into their truth. Again—love cares not for distinctions; but friendship cannot exist without equality.

Francesca, too, was suffering under the embarrassment of singularity. Alive only to the happiness of again meeting her friends, she had not thought of her own appearance; and she was painfully aware that her Italian costume was a complete contrast to the garb of the other ladies present. She caught many looks directed towards her, but all of curiosity—none of interest. She heard the groups laughing and talking around, but not one voice addressed to her. Good heavens! the isolation of a crowd—that bitter blending of solitude and shame, when you fancy every one that passes casts on you an invidious or scornful glance, and yet are perfectly aware that they do not care—scarcely know—whether you are a human being like themselves! It is in vain to