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FRANCESCA CARRARA.

both white—only the blue veins were swollen on the forehead, and the large closed eyes wore a strange expression, most unlike their usual intellectual darkness. With a light yet hurried step, she went upstairs, and approached the lattice. At first she could not force herself to look out; but the agony of endurance grew insupportable, and she leant forth. Her worst fears were not realised; but there was enough to alarm her in the unusual aspect of the place. It was now about six o'clock, and that first freshness was on the air, which is to the day what youth is to life,—so light, so elastic, so sweet, and so brief: the roofs of the thatched buildings glittered with the moisture rapidly drying up; the fragrant breath of the cows, the long lingering odour from the hayricks, were so perceptible on the clear atmosphere; long shadows came down from the house and the trees, but they only made more visible the golden transparency of the sunshine.

"O God!" cried Francesca, "this contrast of the glad external world is dreadful to that within!"

The farm-yard, though morning was upon it, showed none of its usual morning activity; the hinds stood staring and bewildered in knots of some two or three, who appeared as though they sought to draw nigh to each other for protection,