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ARIADNE. 117nightingales, and so pined for the jibberingapes! "ButIforbore;Iwas afraid lest she shouldturn to hate me, knowing thatIhated him.Weaker natures than hers woulcl have soughtsympathy, and would have suffered shame:shedid neither. She was too absolutely purein theperfectness of her love to be conscious of thatshame which is the reflection " of the world'sreproaches; there was no world " for her;andshe had been tooused to dwell alone amidst herdreams and her labours to seek for the pity orthe pardon of others, or to regret its absence.She had fallen in her own sight,not because hehad loved her, but because he had left her;because she had in some way that she did notunderstand become of no value, and no honour,and no worthinhis sight.She did notrebel against his sentence, but sheloathed herself because she had incurred it.All the lofty, pure, and poetic passion which shehad dreamed of inher ignorance over the pagesof Dante and Petrareca and Sospitra she hadgiven to him: that she had been nothing, in