but he only rejoined:

"No, no! proceed, I entreat you! it is very beautiful--very touching,
too!" Speaking calmly, and slacking rein, so that the grating of the
wheels among the stems of the scarlet _lychnis_, that grew in immense
patches on our road, might not disturb his sense of hearing, which,
by-the-way, was exquisitely nice and fastidious.

"As you please, then;" and I continued the recitation.

"'How shall I woo her? I will try
The charms of olden time,
And swear by earth, and sea, and sky,
And rave in prose and rhyme--
And I will tell her, when I bent
My knee in other years,
I was not half so _eloquent_;
I could not speak--_for tears_!'"

I watched him narrowly; the spell was working now; the poet's hand was
sweeping, with a gust of power, that harp of a thousand strings, the
wondrous human heart! And I again pursued, in suppressed tones of
heart-felt emotion, the pathetic strain that he had evoked with an idea
of its frivolity alone:

"'How shall I woo her? I will bow
Before the holy shrine,
And pray the prayer, and vow the vow,
And press her lips to mine--
And I will tell her, when she starts
From passion's thrilling kiss,
That _memory_ to many hearts
Is dearer far than bliss!'"

It was reserved for the concluding verse to unnerve him completely; a
verse which I rendered with all the pathos of which I was capable, with
a view to its final effect, I confess:

"'Away! away! the chords are mute,
The bond is rent in twain;
You _cannot_ wake the silent lute,
Or clasp its links again.
Love's toil, I know, is little cost;
Love's perjury is light sin;
But souls that lose what I have lost,
What have they left to win?'"

"What, indeed?" he exclaimed, impetuously--tears now streaming over his
olive cheeks. He flung the reins to me with a quick, convulsive motion,
and covered his face with his hands. Groans burst from his murmuring
lips, and the great deeps of sorrow gave up their secrets. I was sorry
to have so stirred him to the depths by any act or words of mine, and
yet I enjoyed the certainty of his anguish.

I checked the horses beneath a magnolia-tree, and sat quietly waiting
for the flood of emotion to subside as for him to take the initiative. I
had no word to say, no consolation to offer. Nay, after consideration,
rather did I glory in his grief, which redeemed his nature in my
estimation, though grieved in turn to have