“Oh, do not feel offended with me,” cried he, passionately. “If you but knew how your words have relighted within me the dying-out embers of an almost exhausted ambition,--if you but knew how my heart has gained courage and hope,--how light and brightness have shone in upon me after hours and days of gloom! It was but yesterday I had resolved to abandon this career forever. I was bent on a new life, in a new world beyond the seas. These few things that a faithful companion of mine had charged himself to dispose of, were to supply the means of the journey; and now I think of it no more. I shall remain here to work hard and study, and try to achieve what may one day be called good. You will sometimes deign to see what I am doing, to tell me if my efforts are on the road to success, to give me hope when I am weak-hearted, and courage when I am faint. I know and feel,” said he, proudly, “that I am not devoid of what accomplishes success, for I can toil and toil, and throw my whole soul into my work; but for this I need, at least, one who shall watch me with an eye of interest, glorying when I win, sorrowing when I am defeated.--Where are we? What palace is this?” cried he, as they crossed a spacious hall paved with porphyry and Sienna marble. “This is my home,” said the girl, “and this is its mistress.” Just as she spoke, she presented the youth to a lady, who, reclining on a sofa beside a window, gazed out towards the sea. She turned suddenly, and fixed her eyes on the stranger. With a wild start, she sprang up, and, staring eagerly at him, cried, “Who is this? Where does he come from?” [Illustration: frontispiece] The young girl told his name and what he was; but the words did not fall on listening ears, and the lady sat like one spell-bound, with eyes riveted on the youth's face. “Am I like any one you have known, signora?” asked he, as he read the effect his presence had produced on her. “Do I recall some other features?” “You do,” said she, reddening painfully. “And the memory is not of pleasure?” added the youth. “Far, far from it; it is the saddest and cruelest of all my life,” muttered she, half to herself. “What part of Italy are you from? Your accent is Southern.” “It is the accent of Naples, signora,” said he, evading her question. “And your mother, was she Neapolitan?” “I know little of my birth, signora. It is a theme I would not be questioned on.” “And you are a sculptor?” “The artist of the Faun, dearest aunt,” broke in the girl, who watched with intense anxiety the changing expressions of the youth's features. “Your voice even more than your features brings up the past,” said the lady, as a deadly pallor spread over her own face, and her lips trembled as she spoke. “Will you not tell me something of your history?” “When you have told me the reason for which you ask it, perhaps I may,” said the youth, half sternly.