eyes
had such a power in them as he gazed down proudly upon her--that
the tears which trembled upon Enrica's eyelids disappeared. Nobili's
strength came to her as her own strength. She, who had been so crushed
and wounded, brought so near to death, needed this to raise her up to
life. And now it came--came as she gazed at him.

Yes, she would live--live a new life with him. And Nobili had done
it--done it unconsciously, as the sun unfolds the bosom of the rose,
and from the delicate bud creates the perfect flower.

Something Nobili understood of what was passing within her, but not
all. He had yet to learn the treasures of faith and love shut up in
the bosom of that silent girl--to learn how much she loved him--only
_him_. (A new lesson for one who had trifled with so many, and given
and taken such facile oaths!)

Neither spoke, but wandered up and down in vague delight.

Why was it that at this moment Nobili's thoughts strayed to Lucca, and
to Nera Boccarini?--Nera rose before him, glowing and velvet-eyed,
as on that night she had so tempted him. He drove her image from him.
Nera was dead to him. Dead?--Fool!--And did he think that any thing
can die? Do not our very thoughts rise up and haunt us in some subtile
consequence of after-life? Nothing dies--nothing is isolated. Each act
of daily intercourse--the merest trifle, as the gravest issue--makes
up the chain of life. Link by link that chain draws on, weighted with
good or ill, and clings about us to the very grave.

Thinking of Nera, Nobili's color changed--a dark look clouded his
ready smile. Enrica asked, "What pains you?"

"Nothing, love, nothing," Nobili answered vaguely, "only I fear I am
not worthy of you."

Enrica raised her eyes to his. Such a depth of tenderness and purity
beamed from them, that Nobili asked himself with shame, how he could
have forgotten her. With this blue-eyed angel by his side it seemed
impossible, and yet--

Pressing Enrica's hand more tightly, he placed it fondly on his own.
"So small, so true," he murmured, gazing at it as it lay on his broad
palm.

"Yes, Nobili, true to death," she answered, with a sigh.

Still holding her hand, "Enrica," he said, solemnly, "I swear to love
you and no other, while I live. God is my witness!"

As he lifted up his head in the earnestness with which he spoke, the
sunshine, streaming downward, shone full upon his face.

Enrica trembled. "Oh! do not say too much," she cried, gazing up at