ave deemed the very starlight could
have shone through it. I did not doubt that it was the recluse whom I
saw; I drew near and accosted him.

"Your blessing, holy Father, and your permission to taste the healing of
your well."

Sudden as was my appearance, and abrupt my voice, the Hermit evinced by
no startled gesture a token of surprise. He turned very slowly round,
cast upon me an indifferent glance, and said, in a sweet and very low
tone,--

"You have my blessing, Stranger: there is water in the cistern; drink,
and be healed."

I dipped the bowl in the basin, and took sparingly of the water. In the
accent and tone of the stranger, my ear, accustomed to the dialects of
many nations, recognized something English; I resolved, therefore, to
address him in my native tongue, rather than the indifferent Italian in
which I had first accosted him.

"The water is fresh and cooling: would, holy Father, that it could
penetrate to a deeper malady than the ills of flesh; that it could
assuage the fever of the heart, or lave from the wearied mind the dust
which it gathers from the mire and travail of the world."

Now the Hermit testified surprise; but it was slight and momentary. He
gazed upon me more attentively than he had done before, and said, after
a pause,--

"My countryman! and in this spot! It is not often that the English
penetrate into places where no ostentatious celebrity dwells to sate
curiosity and flatter pride. My countryman: it is well, and perhaps
fortunate. Yes," he said, after a second pause, "yes; it were indeed
a boon, had the earth a fountain for the wounds which fester and the
disease which consumes the heart."

"The earth has oblivion, Father, if not a cure."

"It is false!" cried the Hermit, passionately, and starting wildly
from his seat; "the earth has _no_ oblivion. The grave,--is _that_
forgetfulness? No, no: _there is no grave for the soul_! The deeds pass;
the flesh corrupts: but the memory passes not, and withers not. From age
to age, from world to world, through eternity, throughout creation, it
is perpetuated; and immortality,--a curse,--_a hell_!"

Surprised by the vehemence of the Hermit, I was still more startled by
the agonizing and ghastly expression of his face.

"My Father," said I, "pardon me if I have pressed upon a sore. I also
have that within which, did a stranger touch it, would thrill my whole
frame with torture, and I would fain ask from your holy, soothing, and
pious