That tone, too, bespoke an altered and deepened character; it told of a vivified intellect, and of spiritual instruction that had come through sorrow and remorse; so that instead of the wild boy, the thing of sportive, animal nature, the sylvan Faun, here was now the man of feeling and intelligence.
She turned towards him, while his voice still reverberated in the depths of her soul.
"You have called me!" said she.
"Because my deepest heart has need of you!" he replied.

"Forgive, Miriam, the coldness, the hardness with which I parted from you! I was bewildered with strange horror and gloom." "Alas! and it was I that brought it on you," said she.

"What repentance, what self-sacrifice, can atone for that infinite wrong?
There was something so sacred in the innocent and joyous life which you were leading! A happy person is such an unaccustomed and holy creature in this sad world! And, encountering so rare a being, and gifted with the power of sympathy with his sunny life, it was my doom, mine, to bring him within the limits of sinful, sorrowful mortality! Bid me depart, Donatello! Fling me off! No good, through my agency, can follow upon such a mighty evil!" "Miriam," said he, "our lot lies together.

Is it not so?
Tell me, in Heaven's name, if it be otherwise." Donatello's conscience was evidently perplexed with doubt, whether the communion of a crime, such as they two were jointly stained with, ought not to stifle all the instinctive motions of their hearts, impelling them one towards the other.

Miriam, on the other hand, remorsefully questioned with herself whether the misery, already accruing from her influence, should not warn her to withdraw from his path.