silvery shadows of the olive grove. How minutely was the slightest thing impressed on her memory! She remembered the childish sorrow with which she saw the thicker boughs shut out the sunshine, because she no longer could watch his shadow. She thought, too, how they leant beside the old Moorish well, whose deep water was like a dark and polished mirror—leant gazing each on the image of the other, and then laughed aloud in tender mockery, to think that they should gaze on a shadow with the reality so near; and they looked into each other's eyes with a deeper fondness. With what sweet confidence did they talk of the future; what a loveliness, never noted before, was on the blue sky and the fair earth!
It was the loveliness of love, flinging his own divine likeness over all; and this love, the only spiritual and mighty happiness of which humanity is capable, was henceforth to be to Norboume a forbidden word. He loved one, and was to wed another. Earth has no such misery. It is wretchedness to pine
