The student was roused from his trance by a light footstep. A hand was laid on his shoulder, and a soft woman’s voice whispered,——
“Art thou then here all alone, and in darkness, my Basil?”
“All was light with me,——the darkness came with thee,” answered the student, harshly, like one roused from delicious slumbers by an unwelcome hand;——and yet the hand was none other than Isilda’s.
“Once thou used to call me thy light of life, Basil,” murmured the girl. “I would not come to anger thee.”
It was too dark to discern faces; but as Isilda turned to depart, Basil thought she was weeping, and his heart melted. What would he not have given, at the moment, for the days of old,——the feelings of old, when he would have drawn her to his bosom, and soothed her there with the assurances of never-ending love. But now he dared not; the link between him and earth was broken. He thought of the immortal gift just acquired, and he would not renounce its ecstatic joys,——no, not even for Isilda. He took her hand kindly, but coldly, saying,——
“Forgive me; I have been studying,——dreaming; I did not mean to say thou wert unwelcome.”
“Bless thee for that, my Basil, my beloved!” cried the girl, weeping, as she pressed his hand passionately to her heart and her lips. “Thou couldst not be unkind to me,——to thy betrothed wife.”
Basil turned away; he could not tell her that the tie was now only a name; and Isilda went on,——
“Thou hast not looked the same of late; thou art too anxious; or thou hast some hidden sorrow upon thee. Tell it to me, my Basil,” she continued, caressingly. “Who should share and lighten it but I, who love thee so?”