mile hovering on his withered lips. Fabio, with
scalding tears, assisted him to leave the carriage, and led him into
the hall. When he saw his child surrounded by the apparel of death he
dropped silently on his knees, and pressed his forehead on her folded
hands. When at last we tried to raise him, we found that a paralysis of
the heart had compassionately united him to his darling.

In the following night we buried them both. No one was present but
Fabio, and Nina. Don Vigilio pronounced the benediction on the dead. He
told me afterwards that Richino had appointed it so, and had given
orders that all my requests were to be complied with as if I were
master of the house. He had received no visitors, and after a violent
scene with his mother-in-law, had on the same day left Bologna for
Rome.

The widow of the General entered a convent for the time of her
mourning. I for my part when the earth had closed over the two coffins,
took horse, and before the day had dawned was on my way to Florence.

A year after, I read in the papers that the widow of the General had
married the young count, her faithful admirer. But though I often
returned to Bologna to visit the grave of my wife I never saw either of
them again.

BEGINNING, AND END.

BEGINNING, AND END.

In the deep bay window of an otherwise brilliantly lighted saloon, a
single candle, supported by the arms of a winged figure in chased
silver, shed its faint lustre.

This soft shade was increased by broad-leaved plants, the last blossoms
of the season, and by a slender palm-tree whose delicate branches
arched gracefully above the entrance of this dusky bower. Two chairs
stood beside each other in the background, inviting to repose, but only
one of them was occupied.

The slender figure of a young woman reclined in it, her head supported
by her arm. Those who suspected her of retiring from the gay company to
this verdant hiding-place in order to attract attention or cause a
search to be made for her wronged her. She thought not of the effect
produced by the delicate half shade of the palm-tree on her pure white
brow, nor of the soft moonshine-like reflex of the candlelight on the
shining waves of her dark hair. Neither did she take advantage of the
solitude around her, whilst a girlish voice was heard singing to the
piano at the further end of the room, to indulge in those reveries
which in the