picion gnawed at his heart. "What," said he, yet under the influence
of the pernicious theories of his youth, "not one woman worthy of
respect! Even this young girl, apparently so modest and pure, unworthy
the confidence I reposed in her." The recollection of the chaste and
maidenly appearance of Aminta soon put such ideas to flight, and Maulear
thenceforth had but one idea, but one desire. He sought to clear up the
strange mystery of his nocturnal vision, and extricate himself from his
cruel perplexity.

On the day appointed for his return to Sorrento, as the clock struck
ten, he stopped his horse at the garden gate where four days before he
had left Aminta. The gate was open. He entered the orange grove which
lay between it and the house. A secret hope told him he would find
Aminta there. He was not mistaken. She sat beneath a rustic porch, which
served as a portal to the prettiest cottage imaginable. This building,
constructed of the slightest material, had windows closed with
gayly-covered verandahs, and served to shelter walkers from the heat of
the summer's sun. It was Aminta's favorite retreat, and thither she came
in the morning to paint her sisters, the white Bengal roses, the red
cactus and the graceful clematides, which surrounded her charming
retreat. There in the evening, pensive and reflective, the young girl
suffered her glance to stray over the vast horizon of the sea gilded by
the sun's expiring rays. On the day we speak of, Maulear found her
reading, or rather seeming to read, for her book rested on her knee, her
ivory brow supported by her hand. Her eyes, lifted up to heaven, seemed
to ask the realization of some gentle dream inspired doubtless by the
author. Perhaps the nature of the dream might have been devised by the
book--Tasso's Divine Poem! Maulear glided rather than walked to her, so
fearful was he of destroying the beautiful tableau presented to him by
chance. Then he paused some moments behind a screen of leaves, and
looked at the beautiful dreamer, in mute but passionate adoration. As he
scanned her girlish form, becoming intoxicated with her modest charms,
Maulear blushed at his suspicions, and resolved to abandon them. God did
not make such angels for men to distrust, and Aminta, beautiful as the
heavenly beings, must be pure and spiritual as they.

He left his concealment, and approached Aminta. She moved when she saw
him, for he had surprised her in a dream. The dreams of young girls ar