the world; the most eligible suitors have sued for her favor; youth,
beauty, and wealth have disputed her affection with one another, but her
grief has remained inaccessible; she has been subjected to every proof,
but it has not been possible to tear from her soul the demon image of
Adrian Baker. Medical skill has been appealed to, and science has
exhausted its resources in vain, for Berta's malady is incurable.

The nurse firmly believes that Adrian Baker has bewitched her; he has
diffused through her blood a diabolical philtre. Strong love will survive
absence, but no love will survive death. Berta, consequently, was
bewitched.

Her father has only one thought, expressed in these words: "He has gone
away and he is taking her with him; after all, he is taking her with
him."

But there is still one other resource to be appealed to--solitude, the
fields, nature. Who can tell! the sky, the sun, the air of the country,
may revive her; the poetry of nature may awaken in her heart new feelings
and new hopes; the murmur of the waters, the song of the birds, the shade
of the trees--why not? There is no human sorrow, however great it may be,
that does not sink into insignificance before the grandeur of the heavens.

At a little distance from the city Berta's father has a small villa, whose
white walls and red roof can be seen through the trees which surround it.
There could not be a more picturesque situation. To the right, the
mountain; to the left, the plain; in front, the sea, stretching far in the
distance, until it blends with the horizon; and that nothing may be
wanting to complete the picture, the ruins of an ancient monastery, seated
on the slope of the mountain, can be seen from the villa.