he had himself been. He
saw in them the selfsame elements which had led him on to every calamity
that he suffered,--the passionate pursuit of pleasure, the inexhaustible
craving for excitement that makes life the feverish paroxysm of a
malady.

They sat to a late hour together; and when they separated, the chance
acquaintance had ripened into intimacy. Night after night they met in
the same place; and while they were charmed with the gentle seriousness
of one in whom they could recognize the most manly daring, he, on his
side, was fascinated by the confiding warmth and the generous frankness
of their youth.

One evening, as they assembled as usual, Roland remarked a something
like unusual excitement amongst them; and learned that from a letter
they had received that morning, they were about to leave Naples the next
day. There seemed some mystery in the reason, and a kind of reserve in
even alluding to it, which made Cashel half suspect that they had been
told who he was, and that a dislike to further intercourse had suggested
the departure. It was the feeling that never left him by day or night,
that dogged his waking and haunted his dreams,--that he was one to be
shunned and avoided by his fellow-men. His pride, long dormant, arose
under the supposed slight, and he was about to say a cold farewell, when
the elder of the party, whose name was Sidney, said,--

"How I wish you were going with us!"

"Whither to?" said Cashel, hurriedly.

"To Venice--say, is this possible?"

"I am free to turn my steps in any direction,--too free, for I have
neither course to sail nor harbor to reach."

"Come with us, then, Roland," cried they all, "and our journey will be
delightful."

"But why do you start so hurriedly? What is there to draw you from this
at the very brightest season of the year?"

"There is rather that which draws us to Venice," said Sidney, coloring
slightly? "but this is our secret, and you shall not hear it till we are
on our way."

Roland's curiosity was not exacting; he asked no more: nor was it till
they had proceeded some days on their journey that Sidney confided to
him the sudden cause of their journey, which he did in the few words.--

"La Ninetta is at Venice,--she is at the 'Fenice.'"

"But who is La Ninetta? You forgot that you are speaking to one who
lives out of the world."

"Not know La Ninetta!" exclaimed he; "never have seen her?"

"Never even heard of her."

To the pause which the s