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ARIADNE. 151her; she was vaguely oppressed,and would liefor hours motionless in the darkened rooms, andwoulcl drag herself outward with effort, onlyifsheheard of any inneed;but she never made anylament. To physical discomfort she had alwaysbeen indifferent, andIthink of it now she wasinsensible.In the heats of summerIwoulcl have had hertake some sort of change, but, as before, sherefused to leave Rome." Itishere that he wUl seek meif he want me— ever," she said ; and I, thinking of the crueltruths thathe haduttered inthemoonlight by theTemple of Agrippa, felt my very heart grow cold." Oh, my dear! oh, my chUd!you perish fora dream,"Isaid, and dared say no more.She smiled faintly, a smUe that hurt one morethan other women's weeping." In your dream Love brought the poppyflowers, but thatIdo not understand. Howcan one die while what oneloves stilllives? Tohe a dead thingin the cold, and the dark, while"othersA shudder shook her; the Greek-like temper