THE STORY OF A PICTURE,

green and beautiful as ever. Oh! how many times
they have put forth their new leaves since I saw them
last !" And, as he spoke, he looked at the group of
old trees before them, as if he recognized in them long-
lost friends.
 But," said Maria, laughing, the sketches you
 used to make then, Pietro, would look very strange to
 you now. Don't you think so ?"
 "c Indeed I do, dearest Maria, but whoever wishes
to climb high must begin with small steps; and if in
our old studio I first won your love, there is no place
beneath heaven that I love more than this spot of
ground."
 "And it was here, Pietro, if I remember aright,
that you first disappointed me, when you would not
admire my new trinket."
 "C Well, Maria," he answered, as he took in his
hand the cross, which she still wore on her neck, if I
could only have known then that it was to help in
bringing me such happiness as this, you would not
have been disappointed."
 They lingered long beside the copse, speaking of
the sweet recollections that the place recalled to them;
they only left it when the sun had set, and darkness
was falling on Castaro. As they passed through the
village on their way to the castle, they paused often as
some well remembered place or object presented itself,
and both experienced that strange' feeling, half of
sadness, half of pleasure, which comes over those who
revisit scenes familiar to them in bygone years.
 On the next day they left the village to return to
Florence, where they resided at a little distance from
the house of Signor Selvico. Both of them had felt a
strong desire to pay a farewell visit to the scenes of
their childhood, and it was for this reason that