narrated his struggles and adventures with a simplicity that removed from
a story so personal the character of egotism. But when he came to speak
of Helen he was brief and reserved.

Violante would have questioned more closely; but, to Leonard's relief,
Harley interposed.

"You shall see her whom he speaks of before long, and question her
yourself."

With these words, Harley turned the young man's narrative into new
directions; and Leonard's words again flowed freely. Thus the evening
passed away happily to all save Riccabocca. For the thought of his dead
wife rose ever and anon before the exile; but when it did, and became too
painful, he crept nearer to Jemima, and looked in her simple face, and
pressed her cordial hand. And yet the monster had implied to Harley that
his comforter was a fool,--so she was, to love so contemptible a
slanderer of herself and her sex.

Violante was in a state of blissful excitement; she could not analyze her
own joy. But her conversation was chiefly with Leonard; and the most
silent of all was Harley. He sat listening to Leonard's warm yet
unpretending eloquence,--that eloquence which flows so naturally from
genius, when thoroughly at its ease, and not chilled back on itself by
hard, unsympathizing hearers; listened, yet more charmed, to the
sentiments less profound, yet no less earnest,--sentiments so feminine,
yet so noble, with which Violante's fresh virgin heart responded to the
poet's kindling soul. Those sentiments of hers were so unlike all he
heard in the common world, so akin to himself in his gone youth!
Occasionally--at some high thought of her own, or some lofty line from