the stage; where her immense success had replenished their coffers
far more rapidly and abundantly than play. At Naples, however, an
incident similar to what happened at Venice was nigh having occurred.
She was recognized by a young Spaniard who had known her in Mexico; and
as the whole assumed history of her noble birth and Sicilian origin was
thus exposed to contradiction, they took measures to get rid of this
unwelcome witness. They managed to hide among his effects some dies and
moulds for coining,--an offence then, as ever, rife at Naples. A
police investigation, in which bribery had its share, was followed by a
mock-trial, and the young fellow was sentenced to the galleys for seven
years, with hard labor.

Their career from this moment was one of unchanging success. Maritana's
beauty attracted to the play-table all that every city contained of
fashion, wealth, and dissipation. In her ignorance of the world she was
made to believe that her position was one the most exalted and enviable.
The homage she received, the devotion exhibited on every side, the
splendor of her life, her dress, her jewels, her liveries, dazzled
and delighted her. The very exercise of her abilities was a source of
enthusiastic pleasure to one who loved admiration. Nor had she perhaps
awoke from this delusion, had not the heart-uttered cry of Roland burst
the spell that bound her, and evoked the maiden's shame in her young
heart. Then--with a revulsion that almost shook reason itself--she
turned with abhorrence from a career associated with whatever could
humiliate and disgrace. Entreaties, prayers, menaces--all were
unavailing to induce her to appear again; and soon, indeed, her altered
looks and failing health rendered it impossible. A vacant unmeaning
smile, or a cold impassive stare, usurped the place of an expression
that used to shine in joyous brilliancy. Her step, once bounding and
elastic, became slow and uncertain. She seldom spoke; when she did, her
accents were heavy, and her thoughts seemed languid, as though her mind
was weary. None could have recognized in that wan and worn face, that
frail and delicate figure, the proud and beautiful Maritana.

She lived now in total seclusion. None ever saw her, save Rica, who used
to come and sit beside her each day, watching, with Heaven alone knows
what mixture of emotion! that wasting form and decaying cheek. What
visions of ambition Linton might yet connect with her none knew or
could gu