sion ?” he muttered, in a strangely al- other with frightful rapidity; one above tered voice.

all was so sharp that I was sure it had “No, no, but leave me, leave me,” I struck the earth. cried in a convulsion of fear and an- O where was he? alone in the darkguish and shame.

ness, exposed to the rage of the storm! “Myriam, I love you."

At this thought, the cold that had para“It is not true!"

lyzed my limbs turned to a burning fire. I said these words with such bitter. For a moment I had the mad idea to ness, that it stung him; he sprang up rush out and follow him, and call him with a frenzied look; his eyes grew back. I sprang up only to fall back stern.

again; I pressed my burning head "Take care—this is your hour. You against the steps, and cried to God, to will never have me thus again, never death! After that I knew no more until again.”

I found myself in the arms of Ursula I bowed my head beneath this myste- and Pietro, who supported me up the rious threat. I shuddered and pressed stairs, helpless and docile, and put me my two hands hard against my breast. in my bed. They had been awakened I do not know how long a time went by the storm and had risen to see if all by.

the windows were closed, and finding A flash of lightning suddenly lit up me unconscious at the foot of the stairthe dark square of the window. Then I case, supposed that I had come down gently besought him to go back to his for the same reason, and had been home.

taken suddenly ill. Poor dear old peoTall and proud he stood in the middle ple! who loved me so much, of the room, the prey of some cruel struggle. Then he came back to me, All night I lay awake and listened to he came back to me with supplication in the wind which blew and never ceased,

always with the same sense of pain as “Go, go!" I said.

when one is struck to the heart. I Tois prayer I repeated with all the longed to weep and could not. The persuasiveness and strength and gentle- charm was broken. Six months of ness I could put into my voice.

peace, almost of happiness! It had all He went out without a word. I fol- vanished, never to come back, destroyed lowed him to the foot of the staircase in a moment. I had wept much when hardly able to hold myself erect, listen- my parents died, and yet I knew that ing with terror to the rain which had they must die. But he, why had he begun to fall.

done this? He had showed the I opened the door as a sudden clap of vision of a nobler life, but he had not thunder shook the house; his tall figure thought me worthy to follow him in it. was lit up for a moment on the thresh- He had not loved me; no, he had not old, he bent slightly and disappeared. I loved me, and I had had such faith in let myself fall sobbing on the floor. him. The fury of the storm increased every At this thought a burning heat flamed moment, shrieking through the air, into my cheeks. I longed to strike him, roaring in the chimneys, howling in the to humiliate him, to accuse him of his tree tops, shaking and tearing the baseness! Certain stories heard here branches, and sighing like a human and there, certain comments whose imcreature.

port my absolute ignorance of life had “My God! My God!" I murmured with not understood, came back tumultuously my face against the floor, “have pity on to my memory, clearing up with sad him!”

swiftness all that had remained uncomThe rain streamed down in torrents; prehended in my short and solitary through the chinks of the door there woman's experience. It was thus then came an icy wind; flashes of lightning that women fell, and it was of this that and claps of thunder succeeded each men boasted? And he could do so!

his eyes.


Horrible night, through which my soul ashamed that I had looked up to him so agonized.

unquestioningly, setting him above all Nevertheless towards dawn I grew other men in my heart. Perhaps he was calmer. Ursula, who had refused to only a hypocrite. leave me and who had dozed in an arm- Hardly had this suspicion been born, chair, came and laid her hand on my hardly had the words on my lips echoed forehead.

in my brain, than a protest shook my “You have a fever; we must send for heart, as if something conscious, watchthe doctor."

ing there, had cried out “No!" I did not make any objection, I did And for an instant all my thoughts not answer; I was indifferent.

were at a stand. Ursula ran to waken Pietro so that he In examining the conduct of my cousin might find the doctor at home before he since that bright February day, when had begun his morning round. Then he appeared to me–I could see him still she came back to my bedside, and standing in the flaming glow of my red kissed my hands two or three times curtains-what had I to reproach him with silent, intense affection.

for? Had he not been always loyal and “And Alexis,” she exclaimed sud- sincere? For six months his compandenly, “the poor little one does notionship had uplifted my soul; could not know anything. See how he sleeps." six months atone for one hour? A new

She softly lifted the veil from the bed sentiment was born in me, a kind of of my little boy and showed him to me, tender maternal compassion. My spirit all rosy with sleep. A sudden flood of grew calm. tenderness rushed over me; I sprang All that was generous in my resoluout of bed and threw myself on my tion raised me in my own estimation, knees beside him, weeping bitterly. and I did not doubt would also raise me Ursula was terrified and thought I was in his. in the delirium of fever, so that to quiet My tears began to flow, but her I let her cover me up in bed again gently! I already saw his repentance, with a docility which pleased and reas- his confusion and the sweetness of the sured her; then I turned my face to the hour when everything should be wiped wall, and cried softly, softly.

out forever. When the doctor came he said I had I stopped with this thought, for my no fever, but was over excited and had poor head was weary with effort so new better stay in bed. I was not sorry to to it. Having reached a point where I do this, I longed for solitude and si- could find a sort of rest and consolation, lence. I wanted to be alone with I gave myself up to it, and reposed for my conscience. wanted to disen- several hours in an unconsciousness tangle at my leisure the mass of that resembled sleep. I opened my contradictory thoughts which agitated eyes as the evening shadows began to me, a mixture of anger, sadness and take possession of the room, and was scorn, and also a curious feeling of se- terrified for fear that he might come cret satisfaction, that I could not under- and find me in my bed. stand.

I rose, dressed myself and hastily arI was filled with a sentiment of curi- ranging my hair, ran down into the osity and fear. What would his de salon. meanor be henceforth? Would he ask Good heavens!" cried Ursula. my pardon? This I should exact. He Alexis ran to kiss me with great dehad failed me in every respect; he had light, and Pietro hearing my voice came abused my inexperience, my solitude, hurrying in. I persuaded them all that my confidence in him. He had been un- I was much better, that since I had no worthy, but beside this terrible truth fever, it was useless to stay in bed. I I saw an abyss. Henceforth whom wanted my dinner, and I was very gay could I trust? I thought of my deep with an affected gaiety as if I had been humility in his presence and I was drinking champagne. However as the

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time passed, my spirits began to fail. once more. After so many days of opAt every grinding of the gravel, at the pressive heat, the coolness seemed like a least noise I trembled, full of dis- benediction. But, why did he not quietude that I could no longer conceal. come?

"I think,” said Ursula, with an anx- Suddenly Ursula appeared at the door, ious voice, “that it would have been and said with the utmost firmness. better if madame had stayed in bed." My dear mistress, the bed is ready." "Perhaps it would.”

I answered, “Yes, yes," with a sort of “Will madame go back?''

feeble resistance. I still lingered to: "In a moment.”

look at the pictures on the walls, to reI pressed Alexis against my knee, arrange a flower in a vase, or to smooth showing him pictures in a book of the covers of the armchairs. natural history, but I was so agitated I stopped before the clock on the manthat I could hardly turn the leaves. tleshelf; it was nine o'clock. I could Suddenly I said:

deceive myself no longer. "It must be very late.”

“Let us go," I sighed in a tone so faint “Of course it is late, and that is why that Ursula guessed rather than beard I want madame to go to bed,” said' my it. good Ursula.

Soon the whole house behind its I made no answer but rose with an closed doors reposed in profound uneasy feeling, and went to lean on the silence. With eyes wide open in the window from whence I could see the darkness, I still was asking, why did he whole length of the walk and the flower not come? And of all the sentiments I beds, all crushed and ruined.

had experienced in the past twenty-four Poor flowers! Poor trees! what a hours, scorn, shame, pity, pardon, restate they are in,” I said, full of pity at morse, sadness, it was only sadness that once for them, and for my own heart. remained, infinite, increasing. Some

“The storm last night was a real ca- thing must have taken place in me that lamity. Two trees near us were up- I did not understand. From whence rooted and a peasant's child who hap- came such an agony of pain for an pened to be out of doors was flung to occurrence which should have angered, the ground by the violence of the wind.” rather than saddened me? I was afraid

This news was not comforting; he too of my thoughts; I was afraid to sound had been out in the storm, and it was their depths. Slumber weighed on myI who had sent him there! A kind of re- eyelids; I longed to sleep but I could morse added itself to my anxiety, and not. One fixed thought ruled in my I did not move, gazing out into the brain and tortured me, “This time lastgarden under the spell of new sorrow. night he was here." Unconscious as a.

Pietro came in with the lighted lamp. somnambulist I slipped from my bed, I repeated, “It is very late then!"

relit the candle and went down to the Beneath the inquietude, beneath the salon. There I stopped short; it was the remorse, what made my heart contract very place, the very hour. The chair on with keen anguish was the thought, which I had been sitting when he “Why does he not come?"

kneeled before me, was still beside the Once Alexis followed Ursula to the table, drawn a little forward as if it kitchen, and I fled again to the win. waited some one. Why did the rememdow as if the strength of my longing brance of the little tap I fancied I had could have drawn him to me. Why did heard against the window, dart sudhe not come?

denly into my brain? I dared not open The sky was dark, with here and there the window, no, I dared not. I seated a star. The air, pure and fresh, full of myself upon the chair, but it seemed to the fragrance of flowers and broken burn me. By some strange ballucinabranches, seemed to palpitate under the tion I felt the warmth of his breath, I trees like the breath of the night itself, saw his head on my knees, his hands wrapped in her damp veil, and at peace imploring—and it was no longer terror

that stirred me, but rapture-O my God! the part of his master who had reI loved him, then!

turned. My heart leaped for joy. DurWhat a new abyss of thought and suf- ing these hours of misery I had almost fering! I pressed my hands against my forgotten his offence, only to feel the eyes as if to shut out all that sur- void of his absence. And I began to rounded me, to hide even from myself. wait for him, one day, two daysI could not think, I could not speak a word that might lift the weight that crushed me. I might have thought my brain was paralyzed, if the horrible pain that racked my head had not

From Temple Bar.

A PLEA FOR THE STUDY OF SONNETS. spoken of life as well as suffering.

How long did I stay there alone? The sonnet first came into being in The candle slowly wasted, the shadows Italy, and the earliest sonnet extant is filled the chamber, drawing on the floor

one by Piero delle Vigne, dated 1220 long trembling lines that made me

A.D. The subject was the nature of love, shudder. Sharp cold seized first my

and many people have a vague idea that arms, then my whole body, so that I this has continued to be the one subject was forced to go back to my bed where of sonnets ever since. Although ItalI flung myself with my face against the ian by birth, the sonnet became natupillow, empty-hearted, despairing!

ralized in England very early in its This time I really had a fever, and for

career, and despite the fact that we several days I lay in a languor. attach the name of Shakespeare to a Towards evening I would grow restless, very large class of these compositions, listening for sounds outside the room,

it had already assumed definite shape but nothing passed the door; it was ab- and character before he was born. solutely silent; not a person, not a letter. Spenser, Sydney, Drayton and others How long, how dreadful was the agony

had moulded it, so that henceforth it of waiting! I could never have thought was a natural instrument in the hands that silence could hold such torture in

of English poets. it. One evening when I felt a little

Of late years attention has been called better, Alexis was playing on my bed, to this class of poetry by many charmwhen suddenly he asked, “Why doesn't ing little volumes of collections and remy cousin 'come any more?"

prints, so that most readers are familiar I held down my head as if I were

with the principal sonnets, and I can guilty, and Pietro, who was coming into only hope to act as a remembrancer of the room, told me that he had seen his things familiar, while urging further servant, and learned from the man that study of sonnet literature by giving his master was absent. This was a some reasons for undertaking it. passing comfort. Pietro added that he The principal reason for doing so is in his turn had told the man about my

that it must almost necessarily call into indisposition; this disturbed

play the chief artistic quality-the imWhat had my cousin thought about it? agination-one in which we English Where was he? Why had he gone? people are particularly deficient. OwWhen would he come back?

ing to its brevity, more must be sugMore thoughts, more conjectures, gested than expressed, and although but more doubts, more terrors; more anx

one idea is treated of, the amplification ious waiting. More weary days of it admits far-reaching suggestions. dragged by. I was well again, but I Take for instance that most beautiful wandered about the house like a soul in sonnet on “Silence," by Thomas Hood, pain, or rather like a body that had lost

one of the choicest gems of literature: its soul. One morning Ursula, as she

There is a silence where hath been no brought my coffee to me in my room,

sound; told me that a servant had come from There is a silence where no sound may la Querciaia to ask for news of me, on be;


In the cold grave under the deep, deep sonnet is more bound by rules than any sea,

other form of poetry, and therefore in Or in wide desert, where no life is found,

one way more easy to study. It is unWhich hath been mute and still must sleep necessary to give these rules in detail, profound.

as they may be found in Mark PattiNo voice is hushed-no lice treads son's introduction to Milton's sonnets, or silently,

in Sharp's introduction to “Sonnets of But clouds and cloudy shadows wander

this Century." The principal rules are free,

that a sonnet must consist of fourteen That never spoke, over the idle ground.

decasyllabic lines, divided into two sysBut in green ruins, in the desolate walls tems, composed of an octave and a Of antique palaces, where man hath sestet, and having the rhymes arranged been,

in a certain manner; also that it must Though the dun fox, or wild hyæna, calls, be the embodiment of but one idea. In And owls that flit continually between

order to illustrate the principal rules, I Shriek to the echo, and the low winds

shall quote a very beautiful fourteenmoan,

line poem by Coleridge, which is not a There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.

sonnet, and then point out wherein it

differs and wherein it resembles one. Such a poem carries you through illimitable space into the dim past; a

WORK WITHOUT HOPE. weird phantasmagoria passes before the All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave mind's eye and stirs the spirit strangely. their lairWhat a contrast it presents to the mod- The bees are stirring-birds are on the ern realistic work, where every detail is wingminutely described and the outside And Winter, slumbering in the open air,

Wears on his smiling face a dream of show of things in all its barren naked

Spring! ness is revealed, leaving the mind and

And I the while the sole unbusy thing, heart wholly untouched! It is a matter Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor of reproach to us that Thomas Hood

sing. should have won his reputation principally as a humorist, when he had given Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths to the world such a masterpiece as the

blow, above. There is a touch of irony in the Have traced the fount whence streams of fact that even “The Song of the Shirt”.

nectar flow. first made its public appearance in

Bloom, 0 ye amaranths! bloom for whom

ye may, Punch.

For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, Among particularly suggestive sonnets

away! may be mentioned the following, of With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, which it would be easy to increase the I stroll; number indefinitely: “The Sun God," by And would you learn the spells that Aubrey de Vere; "From Night to Night,”

drowse my soul, by Waddington;' “Spring among the Work without hope draws nectar in a Alban Hills," by Alice


Meynell; “Night," by Blanco White;

And hope without an object cannot live.

"The Choice," "A Venetian Pastoral," and The differences between this poem and “The Dark Glass,” by D. G. Rossetti; a sonnet are as follows: (a) It is divided "The World,” “Love lies Bleeding,” by into two parts, an octave and a sestet, Christina Rossetti; “Natura Benigna,” like a Petrarchan sonnet, but they are and “Natura Maligna," by Watts; placed in the wrong order, namely, the "King of Kings,” by H. E. Clarke; “Two sestet first (the exceptions to this rule Infinities," etc.

are so rare that they are hardly worthy Another reason for this special study, of mention). (6) In the octave the which may appear somewhat paradox- rhyme sounds should be only two, and ical as coupled with the first, is that the they should be arranged as follows, the

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