University of Virginia Library

7. VII.

The bird sings falsely who sings only of sunshine.
The song must sometimes speak of clouds.
Happy were the two — happy in the last degree
— in their mutual loves and constant intercourse.
Albert was all that Anastasia could desire in a
lover — he was fond — he was gentle. His language
was kind, always — and his very whispers
were musical. But he was melancholy — he was
always sad — even when he was most happy. He
seemed never to forget the mutability of happiness.
Yet his sadness was never gloom, nor did

he at any time complain. Still, the very fact that
he asked for no sympathy, and that she knew nothow
to address herself for his relief — these still
made her unhappy. There was yet another cause
of disquiet to the fond Anastasia. Their dwelling
was so lonesome. True, Albert seldom left
her, and there were a thousand pleasant amusements
which he had provided; but her heart was
too human for such a solitude; and the very winds
that mourned in music through the rocky crevices,
and the gentle river that rippled sweetly at the
castle's base, and the sweet birds that carolled in
the groves, and the stars that sang together harmoniously
in their courses, all seemed to tell her
of the many bright eyes, and cheerful hearts and
voices, with which she had been accustomed to
mingle. These thoughts gave her some occasional
annoyances, but a sweet word from Albert
consoled her.

“For a time, dearest, we must keep in solitude,
to avoid the search which your father will doubtlessly
institute after you. We must keep in secret
— we must avoid all exposure — and here they
will not be very apt to seek us.”

She was satisfied — she seemed to be satisfied,
at least — and that was something.