as the keen fresh mountain breeze sweeps the morning fog from
out the valleys; it set me thinking, and asking myself questions which
had never occurred to me before; nay, more, it caused the sweet blossom
of hope to spring up within my heart; and, finally, it aroused within me
a belief--or a superstition, perhaps, would be the better word--that if
we could unite our forces, what is now dark might be made light, and I
could taste of happiness once more. But I must begin my story at the
beginning; I see that you are only mystified by what I have already
said; you want an explanation, and you shall have it.

"I was twenty-six years of age when I first saw your mother. I was
staying at Amalfi at the time, and it was in an old chateau among the
hills, some fifteen miles or so in the rear of the town, that we first
met. You have seen her portrait; you perhaps have it still, and are
therefore able to judge of her appearance for yourself. I fell in love
with her at first sight, and having been fortunate enough, as I then
thought, to favourably impress the old uncle, her only relative, with
whom she was living, I followed up my first accidental introduction to
the inmates of the chateau until it had ripened into a close intimacy.
And if I was attracted toward your mother in the first instance by her
beauty, I was still more powerfully attracted afterwards by her many
accomplishments, and above all by the gentleness and amiability of
disposition, the charming innocence and truth, and the unsophisticated
ingenuousness of character which I thought I had discovered in her. It
was with a feeling of indescribable pleasure and exultation that I was
soon able to detect in Maria Bisaccia's beaming, yet half-averted eyes
and blushing cheeks when we met, the evidences of a growing attachment
for myself, which I did everything in my power to foster and strengthen.
Her uncle Flavio seemed quickly to guess at my wishes, and with a
frankness, yet at the same time a stately dignity, which greatly raised
the old gentleman in my estimation, took an early opportunity to
acquaint me with the fact that, though some of Italy's best blood flowed
through his niece's veins, she was absolutely penniless. That, however,
made no difference whatever to me, excepting that it perhaps rather
stimulated my ardour than otherwise. I loved your mother for herself;
even then I was doing good work, or, at all events, work which was well
spoken of, and which f