CHAPTER II.

As soon as they arrived in Florence, Nevil wrote to Castel Forte; and in a few minutes the Prince came to him. It was some time ere either spoke; at last Nevil asked for Corinne. "I have none but sad news for you," said her friend: "she grows weaker every day; sees no one but myself, and can scarce attempt any occupation; yet I think she has been calmer since we learned you were in Italy; though I cannot disguise from you, that at first her emotions on that intelligence caused her a relapse of fever. She has not told me her intentions, for I carefully avoid your name."--"Have the goodness, Prince," said Oswald, "to give her the letter I wrote you nearly five years since: it contained a detail of all the circumstances that prevented my hearing of her journey to Scotland before I married. When she has read it, ask her to receive me. I long to justify myself with her, if possible. Her esteem is essential to me, though I can no longer pretend to more."--"I will obey your desires, my Lord," said Castel Forte, "and wish that I may in any way be of service." Lady Nevil now entered the room. Oswald made her known to his friend. She met him coldly. He gazed on her with much attention, sighed, thought of Corinne, and took leave. Oswald followed him. "Lady Nevil is very beautiful," said the Prince: "so fresh and young! Alas! my poor love is no longer so; yet forget not, my Lord, that she was a brilliant creature when you saw her first."--"Forget!" exclaimed Oswald: "no, nor ever forgive myself." He could utter no more, and for the rest of the day was gloomily silent. Lucy sought not to disturb him: her forbearance was unlucky; for he only thought: "Had Corinne beheld me sad, she would have striven to console me." The next morning his anxiety early led him to Castel Forte. "Well!" he cried, "what says she?"--"That she will not see you," answered the Prince.--"And her motives?"--"I found her yesterday, in spite of her weakness, pacing the room all agitation, her paleness sometimes giving way to a vivid blush, that faded as suddenly as it rose. I told her your request: after some instants' silence, she said--if you exact from me her own words: 'That man has done me too much wrong already; but the foe who threw me into prison, banished and proscribed me has not yet brought my spirit quite so low as he may think. I have suffered more than woman ever endured beside--alternate fondness and indignation making thought a perpetual torture. Oswald should remember that I once told him it would cost me more to renounce my admiration than my love. He has despoiled the object of my worship: he deceived me, voluntarily or otherwise--no matter: he is not what I believed him. He sported for nearly a year with my affection; and, when he ought to have defended me, when his actions should have proved he had a heart, how did he treat me? Can he boast of having made one generous sacrifice? No! he is happy now, possessing all the advantages best appreciated by the world. I am dying, let him leave me in peace!'"--"These words are very harsh," sighed Oswald.--"She is changed by suffering," admitted Castel Forte; "yet I have often found her so charitable, that, let me own, she has defended you against me."--"You think me unpardonable, then?"--"If you permit me to say so. The injuries we may do women hurt not us in public opinion. The fragile idol of to-day may be broken to-morrow, without finding one protector; for that very reason do I respect the sex, whose moral welfare can find its safety but in our bosoms. A mortal stab is punished by the law; but breaking a tender heart is a theme for jest. I would forgive murder by poniard soonest."--"Believe me," cried Nevil, "I, too, have been wretched--that is my sole extenuation; but formerly she would have listened to it, now it avails me nothing; yet I will write to her: I still believe, in spite of all that parts us, she may yet understand me."--"I will bear your letter, my Lord; but I entreat you temper it well; you guess not what you are to her. Years can but deepen an impression, when no new idea has divided its empire. Would you know in what state she is at present? A fantasy, from which my prayers could not divert her, enables me to show you." He opened the door of another room; and Nevil first beheld a portrait of Corinne as she appeared in Juliet, on the night, of all others, when he felt most enamored of her. The confidence of happiness breathed from each feature. The memories of that festal time came back on Oswald's heart; but as he yielded to them, the Prince took his hand, drew aside a crape from another picture, and showed him Corinne, painted that same year, in the black dress, such as she had never abandoned since her return from England. Her lost lover recollected the figure which had passed him in the Park: but above all was he struck with the total change in her appearance. The long black lashes veiled her languid eyes, and threw a shadow over the tintless cheek: beneath was written this line, from the Pastor Fido:----

"A pena si pudò dir: 'Questa fu rosa!'"

"Scarcely can we now say: 'This was a rose!'"

"How!" cried Lord Nevil; "looks she like this?"---"Within the last fortnight still worse," returned the Prince; and Oswald rushed from him, as if distracted.