She listened--she advanced a little toward me--a faint smile dawned on her pallid lips--she whispered: "Fabio! Fabio!"

I looked at her--unconsciously my voice dropped into a cadence of intense melancholy softened by tenderness.

"Ay--Fabio! What wouldst thou with a ghost of him? Does it not seem strange to thee--that hated name?--thou, Nina, whom I loved as few men love women--thou who gavest me no love at all--thou, who hast broken my heart and made me what I am!"

A hard, heavy sob rose in my throat and choked my utterance. I was young; and the cruel waste and destruction of my life seemed at that moment more than I could bear. She heard me, and the smile brightened more warmly on her countenance. She came close to me--half timidly yet coaxingly she threw one arm about my neck--her bosom heaved quickly.

"Fabio," she murmured--"Fabio, forgive me! I spoke in haste--I do not hate thee! Come! I will make amends for all thy suffering--I will love thee--I will be true to thee, I will be all thine! See! thou knowest I have not lost my beauty!"

And she clung to me with passion, raising her lips to mine, while with her large inquiring eyes she searched my face for the reply to her words. I gazed down upon her with sorrowful sternness.

"Beauty? Mere food for worms--I care not for it! Of what avail is a fair body tenanted by a fiendish soul? Forgiveness?--you ask too late! A wrong like mine can never be forgiven."