Page:Francesca Carrara 2.pdf/153

150 my own haggard appearance! it was not the face of youth, but that of a wan, hollow-eyed conspirator, haunted by constant dangers, and worn with secrecy and watchfulness. The last few months had been long and heavy years! But it was too late now for repentance—there was room only for remorse; and that the God who implanted it in the soul—man's worst scourge for man's worst deeds—knows, has been as a vulture whose beak was for ever preying on my heart!

"The next day I marked, before he spoke, that Carrara's brow was gloomy. Alas! he had only words of reproach and refusal to tell me. But he bade me plead my cause for myself.

A delicious sensation overpowered every other when I first told Beatrice I loved her—my own words sounded so musically sweet;—ah, they bore the magic of her name! But she was cold—even unkind. Her temper, irritated by long indulgence in regret, could not brook being disturbed from the mournful solace of remembrance;—to awaken her to the present seemed cruel; to lead her on to the future impossible! The only feeling I could excite was anger.

"Still I hoped, and Carrara believed. For the first time in her life Beatrice heard him speak in harshness; but he had set his heart upon our