that the rooms were not inhabited; his neighbours had left the place in perfect silence, only the evening before.
Now, alas! he might appreach the window, inhale the fresh air, and gaze as much as he pleased. But what was all this to him—to him, who had just lost sight of the dearest object on the face of the earth! On first recovering from the trying shock, he was led to make many sage reflections; and, among others, the painful one that he had been the cause of their flight. The sum of money he had received, the cessation of the lint trade, and the departure,—each seemed to throw light upon the other. It occurred to him, that Madam Brigitta must have discovered his secret; that he was no favourite with her, and that this was no kind of encouragement. Yet the symbolic language he had held with the fair maiden herself,—the flowers and the music, seemed to revive his spirit. No, he was sure she did not hate him;—her melancholy, and the tears he had seen her shed, not long before she left, served to restore his confidence and courage. Of course, his first effort was to find out the ladies’ new residence, in order to renew, by some means or other, his delightful intercourse with the lovely Mela. This he soon accomplished; but he was grown too prudent to follow them; contenting himself with frequenting the same church, whither they went to hear mass, and never omitting to meet them, some-
