his mastery over himself thus unmanned, was heart-broken at the sight of his great anguish. She consoled him, though she must have been a thousand times the most unhappy of the two.--"Listen!" she said: "when you are in London, fickle gallants will tell you that love-promises bind not your honor; that every Englishman has liked some Italian on his travels, and forgotten her on his return; that a few pleasant months ought to involve neither the giver nor the receiver; that at your age the color of your whole life cannot depend upon the temporary fascinations of a foreigner. Now this will seem right in the way of the world; but will you, who know the heart of which you made yourself the lord, find excuses in these sophisms for inflicting a mortal wound? Will barbarous jests from men of the day prevent your hand's trembling as it drives the poniard through this breast?"--"Hush," said Oswald: "you know it is not your grief alone restrains me: but where could I find such bliss as I have owed to you? Who, in the universe, can understand me as you do? Corinne, you are the only woman who can feel or inspire true love, that harmonious intelligence of hearts and souls, which I shall never enjoy except with you. You know I am not fickle: I look on all things seriously; is it then against you only that I should belie my nature?"--"No," answered Corinne; "you would not treat my fond sincerity with scorn; it is not you, Oswald, who could remain insensible to my despair; but to you my step-mother will say all that can sully my past life. Spare me the task of telling you beforehand her pitiless remarks. Far from what talents I may boast disarming her, they are my greatest errors in her eyes. She cannot feel their charm, she only sees their danger: whatever is unlike the destiny she herself chose seems useless, if not culpable. The poetry of the heart to her appears but an impertinence, which usurps the right of depreciating common sense. It is in the name of virtues I respect as much as you do that she will condemn my character and fate. Oswald, she will call me unworthy of you."--"And how should I hear that?" interrupted he: "what virtues dare she rate above your generosity, your frankness? No, heavenly creature! be common minds judged by common rules; but shame befall the being you have loved who does not more revere than even adore you. Peerless in love and truth, Corinne! my firmness fails; if you sustain me not, I can never fly. It is from you I must receive the power to pain you."--"Well," said Corinne, "there are some seconds yet ere I must recommend myself to God, and beg he will enable me to hear the hour of your departure strike. Oh, Oswald, we love each other with deep tenderness. I have intrusted you with all my secrets; the facts were nothing--but the most private feelings of my heart, you know them all. I have not a thought that is not wedded to thee: if I write aught in which my soul expands, thou art mine inspiration. I address myself