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Rh "Take her advice, dear Glentworth—kiss me and depart." Trembling, though tearless, and nearly as pallid as herself, did Glentworth bend over the wasted form, and press his cold lips to hers, then fly fast as his weakened limbs permitted, far from the house and from the city, until he found in some of its many ruins a desolate corner, where he could weep unseen, recall the memory of hopes raised but to be blighted, of love cherished only to be crushed. At times the memory of new duties, new calls on his affections, new powers to exercise his benevolence, seemed rising before him, rather with an appalling than a soothing aspect; for how could one so smitten down and afflicted find that resurrection of the spirit they demanded! The doctor and the marchese came at their usual time, when the latter observed, "he was obliged to leave home some hours, being convened to a meeting of the senators." "Go, dear Morello, and do not harass yourself by hastening away; you have been very good to me—yes, very good! On your return I shall be better than I am now, so do not be unhappy during your absence." They both departed; but Parizzi stationed two attendants in the anteroom, and mentioned an intention to Isabella of sending for her in an hour; but the marchesa said, "she will not leave me till all is over; I owe you thanks for much, my good doctor, but for nothing so much as her; she has been far better to