1831.3 Passages from the Life of Frederick Wellburg. 641 



beautiful ?" — and she held out the child, and laid him upon his father's 

 breast. Wellburg clasped him in a passionate embrace — " My poor, 

 poor boy ! would that he were in his grave !" — " What saidst thou, 

 Wellburg ? — in his grave ! Oh, God ! — the innocent — our own — mine, 

 mine — and in his grave !" She sprung towards him, and, as she held 

 him to her breast, she gazed upon the painter with a reproachful gknce, 

 and burst into tears " Cruel, cruel !" she exclaimed, bitterly ; " but I 

 have deserved it — all ! ay, even this. Yet I thought once that he, at 

 least, might have spared me !" The painter tried to soothe her ; and 

 as he clasped her in his embrace, she looked up again, and a faint smile 

 beamed through her tears. — " You will love us still, Wellburg ; I know 

 you will love us." 



There was a pause for some moments. — " We are poor," she continued, 

 at length, with a calmed voice, " and we have sinned, deeply ; but there 

 is yet hope — there must be hope." Wellburg turned aside his face, and 

 groaned. " Thou art young," she continued, and her eye kindled as 

 she spoke — " thou art still Wellburg the painter, for whom Adeline di 

 Venuto has spurned wealth, rank, every thing but life ; and wilt thou 

 despair ? Is not the world ours — its beauty and its power ? the bright 

 sun and the blessed stars — are not they freely ours ? — and cannot genius 

 draw from all these a crown, to encircle his brow with the living light 

 which men gaze upon and worship .'' Look around thee, Wellburg — 

 not to these dim walls, but to the bright world within thee — the world of 

 dreams and shadows, through which the gifted walks, like a present 

 deity, summoning the sleepers in their dull graves to cast off the gar- 

 ments of corruption, and appear in the fresh glory of the immortal light. 

 Look around that beaming world ; and as the shadows breathe upon 

 thy face, and give inspiration to thine eye, then answer me — wilt thou 

 still despair ?" 



Wellburg's features assumed a momentary brightness. He gazed 

 ■with a look of admiration upon the fair being who stood before him, 

 her eyes beaming with the inspiration of a lofty spirit, and her slight 

 frame trembling with the earnestness of impassioned feeling ; and, for 

 awhile, he also dared to hope. — " May it not be ever thus ?" he 

 exclaimed, mentally ; " am I not still the same ?" An anxious expres- 

 sion settled upon his brow, and he seemed to struggle with some convic- 

 tion which forced itself irresistibly upon his mind. — " It will not pass 

 away !" he resumed ; " this vampire, which draws the life-blood from 

 my heart — which sits scowling amid my dreams — this shadow, which 

 steps between my fainting spirit and the face of the God of mercy — it 

 will not pass away ! Guilt — the confessor told me it was guilt — unre- 

 pented — unatoned ; and he urged me to confess — nay, he threatened — 

 the wretch ! he dared to threaten." He paced the apartment with an 

 absorbed and thoughtful mien ; and his countenance assumed a mourn- 

 ful expression as he gazed vipon the two timid beings who looked to him 

 for support and comfort. " No, no !" he muttered, witli the tone of 

 one whose mind had been suddenly relieved from the oppression of 

 some intolerable burthen — " it was a fiendish thought ! I am changed ; 

 I have lost power — youth — genius — all these ; yet, oh God ! I cannot— 



will not — give her up to misery ! — And our child too " He took 



the unconscious infant to his arms ; and as the mother gazed up in his 

 face, his features had assumed the expression of settled despair. 



