Soon as my mind that from itself had swerved Came back to true things that outside it lie, I knew my dreams false, but their truth observed. My leader then, who could perceive that I Walked like a man by somnolence unnerved, Said: “Come! what ails thee that thou canst not keep Thy footing straight, but more than half a league Hast moved, with faltering steps, as if by sleep Or wine o’ercome, and eyes that show fatigue?” I answered: “O sweet Father! I will tell, If thou wilt hear me, all that I have seen, While my limbs failed me and my strength so fell.” And he replied: “Shouldst thou thy visage screen Beneath an hundred masks, I still could spell Each slightest thought of thine, and read thy dreams. This vision came lest thou be self-excused Thy heart from opening to the peace that streams From love’s eternal fount o’er all diffused. I did not ask 'what ails thee,’ as men speak, Who look with mortal eye that cannot see The soul without its body. Thou wast weak, And I, to strengthen, reprehended thee. So men are wont dull servants to reprove That when their watch comes round are slow to stir.” During these words we did not cease to move On through the evening, and attentive were To look beyond us, far as vision might, Against the level sun’s o’erpowering rays; And towards us, lo! a vapor, dun as night, Little by little growing on our gaze, Deprived us of pure air and dimmed our sight, Nor was there shelter from the blinding haze. SIX SUNNY MONTHS. BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE HOUSE OF YORKE,” “GRAPES AND THORNS,” ETC. CHAPTER XII. “TO BE, OR NOT TO BE.’ The Signora’s life in these days was disturbed by a doubt that was all the more troublesome because she was obliged to solve it unaided, and that without delay. What should she do with Mr. Vane?