of them, and at
the appearance of health and bloom, which, in this little while, had
overspread her face.'

"May I tell you, Miriam," said he, smiling, "that you are still as
beautiful as ever?"

"You have a right to notice it," she replied, "for, if it be so, my
faded bloom has been revived by the hopes you give me. Do you, then,
think me beautiful? I rejoice, most truly. Beauty--if I possess
it--shall be one of the instruments by which I will try to educate and
elevate him, to whose good I solely dedicate myself."

The sculptor had nearly reached the door, when, hearing her call him, he
turned back, and beheld Miriam still standing where he had left her, in
the magnificent hall which seemed only a fit setting for her beauty. She
beckoned him to return.

"You are a man of refined taste," said she; "more than that,--a man of
delicate sensibility. Now tell me frankly, and on your honor! Have I not
shocked you many times during this interview by my betrayal of woman's
cause, my lack of feminine modesty, my reckless, passionate, most
indecorous avowal, that I live only in the life of one who, perhaps,
scorns and shudders at me?"

Thus adjured, however difficult the point to which she brought him, the
sculptor was not a man to swerve aside from the simple truth.

"Miriam," replied he, "you exaggerate the impression made upon my
mind; but it has been painful, and somewhat of the character which you
suppose."

"I knew it," said Miriam, mournfully, and with no resentment. "What
remains of my finer nature would have told me so, even if it had not
been perceptible in all your manner. Well, my dear friend, when you
go back to Rome, tell Hilda what her severity has done! She was all
womanhood to me; and when she cast me off, I had no longer any terms to
keep with the reserves and decorums of my sex. Hilda has set me free!
Pray tell her so, from Miriam, and thank her!"

"I shall tell Hilda nothing that will give her pain," answered Kenyon.
"But, Miriam, though I know not what passed between her and yourself, I
feel,--and let the noble frankness of your disposition forgive me if
I say so,--I feel that she was right. You have a thousand admirable
qualities. Whatever mass of evil may have fallen into your life,
--pardon me, but your own words suggest it,--you are still as capable
as ever of many high and heroic virtues. But the white shining purity
of Hilda's nature is a thing apart; and she is bound, by the undefiled
mate