as prompted
thee thus to speak! Nisida," he said, suddenly exercising a strong
mastery over his emotions, as he seized her hand and pressed it with
spasmodic violence--"Nisida, as thou valuest our happiness seek not to
penetrate into my secret--proffer not that mad request again!"

And dropping her hand he paced the shore with the agitation of reviving
excitement.

"Fernand," said Nisida, approaching him, and once more speaking in a
resolute and even severe tone--"listen to me. When we met upon the
island, an accident of a terrible nature led me to forget my vow of
self-imposed dumbness; and when the excitement occasioned by that
accident had somewhat passed you were in doubt whether you had really
heard my voice or had been deluded by fevered imagination. It would have
been easy for me to simulate dumbness again; and you would have believed
that the bewilderment of the dread scene had misled you. But I chose not
to maintain a secret from thee--and I confess that my long supposed loss
of two glorious faculties was a mere deed of duplicity on my part. At
that time you said that you also had explanations to give; and yet
months and months have passed by, and confidence has not begotten
confidence. Let this mistrust on your part cease. Reveal to me the cause
of these frequent excursions across the mountains; or else the next time
that you set out on one of these mysterious journeys, I shall assuredly
become your companion."

"Now, Nisida," exclaimed Wagner, his heart rent with indescribable
tortures--"it is you who are cruel--you are unjust!"

"No, Fernand--it is you!" cried Nisida, in a thrilling, penetrating
tone, as if of anguish.

"Merciful Heaven! what misery is in store for us both!" said Wagner,
pressing his hand to his burning brow. "Oh! that some ship would appear
to bear thee away--or that my destiny were other than it is!"

And he flung himself upon the sand in a fit of blank despair. Nisida now
trembled at the violence of those emotions which she had raised in the
breast of him whom she loved; and for a minute she reproached herself
for having so implicitly obeyed the counsel of the evil spirit.

Her own feelings were worked up to that pitch of excitement with which
women--even in the strongest-minded, must have its vent in tears; and
she burst into an agony of weeping.

The sound of those sobs was more than the generous-hearted and
affectionate Fernand could bear; and starting from the sand whereon he