1831.] Passages from the Life of Frederick Wcllhurg. 639 



the object before him, had an expression of singular wildness ; whilst 

 the tumultuous heaving of his breast, conti-asted with his slight and 

 boyish frame, gave an appearance of fearful intensity to the passion by 

 which he was agitated. A sigh burst from his lips. — " And this was 

 Adeline di Venuto!" he muttered; " these features, glowing with the 

 pride of conscious nobility, can they be also those of the pale nun — of 

 ' Sister Adeline V " He uttered the last words in a tone of deep mock- 

 ery. — " Yet how beautiful she was !" he added ; and a smile of gratifi- 

 cation — almost of pride — beamed through his dark features — " how 

 beautiful !" 



WeUburg was standing by his side, and unconsciously repeated his 

 ejaculation. The boy started back, and gazed with a pleading and 

 almost guilty look upon his face. He seemed to cower beneath his eye ; 

 and at length, with a faint sob, he clasped his hands upon his forehead, 

 and burst into tears. Wellburg started in surprise at this unaccountable 

 emotion. He attempted to soothe him ; but the boy shrunk from his 

 notice. He raised his eye but once ; and as he encountered that of the 

 painter, fixed upon him in a gaze of mingled pity and surprise, a faint 

 smile broke through the tears which hung upon his dark features. He 

 clasped the offered hand with a trembling eagerness, and again released 

 it, as if ashamed of his momentary boldness. Wellburg felt the thrill 

 of some inexplicable thought in every pulse of his agitated frame. He 

 knew not wherefore, but that smile seemed to cover some mysterious 

 meaning, which he vainly strove to discover. It could not be — the 

 feeling which had shot like an inspiration through his mind. It could 

 not be ! " Yet that beauty \" he muttered — " his confusion, and the 

 song too — those bewitching tones — the same which she once breathed ! — 

 But they told me she was dead — dead ! and for me too !" — and his mind 

 reverted to those bitter fancies which had haunted him like an evil sha- 

 dow. Yet the thought would present itself—" Have I not heard her 

 voice } Was it not her smile } It could not be ; j et at that moment 

 he was beautiful — most beautiful ! The poor — poor boy ! He too, 

 perhaps, has loved her ; for did he not weep } I saw him weep, and 

 in his tears — oh, he was beautiful — most beautiful !" He raised his 

 eyes, and they fell upon the portrait of Adeline. — " That smile 

 again !" A sti-ange feeling of mingled doubt and hope rose up again 

 within his mind. " I have seen her," he exclaimed — " It was her voice 

 — it was her smile !" He glanced hastily round the apartment ; but 

 it was deserted. 



Frederick Wellburg was seen that night wandering alone through 

 the streets of Florence. All night he rested not ; and the next day 

 he quitted the city for ever. The boy Marina was seen no more — he 



too had disappeared ! 



* * * * * 



In the dusk of a dull evening in November, a muffled figure was seen 

 to emerge from the confessional of a convent of the Dominican order in 

 R<)me. The agitation of his manner, as he hurried from the open 

 squares into narrow and unfrequented streets — now seeming almost to 

 crawl, as if lield back ])y some strong impulse, and again starting for- 

 ward with fresh energy — might have excited surprise, had not the place 

 from whence he came, and the power exercised by a still dominant 

 though humbled churcli over the passions and imagination of its follow- 



