“Alethea! Dost thou still live? Was thy death, then, an idle tale? Whence camest thou to this place?”
“Marcius! I come from the world of spirits.”
“Surely, thou art no ghost! Thy bosom heaves with life, and thine eyes glisten with warm emotion. Let me again fold thy beautiful form to my breast, and feel thy warm breath; for I love thee still.”
“Marcius! thou wert false, heartless—cruel! I loved thee with a pure and single devotion. After deceiving me, thou didst cast me off.”
“Oh, say not so! Try me once again and I will be”—
“Nay, thy time has past. Thou art incapable of love, [pg 67]and it shall remain unknown to thee. Thy baseness hath blasted it forever! From henceforth the world shall be to thee a wilderness.”
“Alethea! curse me not! Thou art living flesh and blood! Thou hast not died! Come to me once more!”
“Marcius, I curse thee not! but mortals must reap as they have sown.”
“Not so! I will persuade thee! Alethea, thou shalt again be mine!”
He advanced, and clasped her in his embrace. But his arms encircled only the thin, cold air.