interrupting him—"Ah! sing as I first heard you:—those notes reached the heart." "Did they?" he cried, approaching her, as his lips pressed, upon hers, one ardent kiss. The blood rushed from her heart in alarm and agitation:—she trembled and turned from him. "There is no cause," he said, gently following her:—"it is the first kiss of love, sweet one; the last alone is full of bitterness."
"Sing to me" she said, confused and terrified, "for God's sake, approach me not—I am alone—I fear you." "I will sing," he said, "and check those fears," saying which he began. It was not like a song, but a sort of soft low murmur, with an air of such expression and empassioned feeling, that every note said more than words: it vibrated to the soul.
"Farewell."
Ah! frown not thus—nor turn from me,
I must not—dare not—look on thee;
Too well thou know'st how dear thou art,
'Tis hard but yet 'tis best to part:
I wish thee not to share my grief,
It seeks, it hopes, for no relief.
