It was at this time that I came to the school, and first saw Mariana.  Me she charmed at once, for I was a sentimental child, who, in my early ill health, had been indulged in reading novels, till I had no eyes for the common greens and browns of life.  The heroine of one of these, “The Bandit’s Bride,” I immediately saw in Mariana.  Surely the Bandit’s Bride had just such hair, and such strange, lively ways, and such a sudden flash of the eye.  The Bandit’s Bride, too, was born to be “misunderstood” by all but her lover.  But Mariana, I was determined, should be more fortunate, for, until her lover appeared, I myself would be the wise and delicate being who could understand her.

It was not, however, easy to approach her for this purpose.  Did I offer to run and fetch her handkerchief, she was obliged to go to her room, and would rather do it herself.  She did not like to have people turn over for her the leaves of the music book as she played.  Did I approach my stool to her feet, she moved away, as if to give me room.  The bunch of wild flowers which I timidly laid beside her plate was left there.

After some weeks my desire to attract her notice really preyed upon me, and one day meeting her alone in the entry, I fell upon my knees, and kissing her hand, cried, “O Mariana, do let me love you, and try to love me a little.”  But my idol snatched away her hand, and, laughing more wildly than the Bandit’s Bride was ever described to have done, ran into her room.  After that day her manner to me was not only cold, but repulsive; I felt myself scorned, and became very unhappy.

Perhaps four months had passed thus, when, one afternoon, it became obvious that something more than common was brewing.  Dismay and mystery were written in many faces of the older girls; much whispering was going on in corners.

In the evening, after prayers, the principal bade us stay; and, in a grave, sad voice, summoned forth Mariana to answer charges to be made against her.

Mariana came forward, and leaned against the chimney-piece.  Eight of the older girls came forward, and preferred against her charges, alas, too well-founded, of calumny and falsehood.

My heart sank within me, as one after the other brought up their proofs, and I saw they were too strong to be resisted.  I could not bear the thought of this second disgrace of my shining favorite.  The first had been whispered to me, though the girls did not like to talk about it.  I must confess, such is the charm of strength to softer natures, that neither of these crises could deprive Mariana of hers in my eyes.

At first, she defended herself with self-possession and eloquence.  But when she found she could no more resist the truth, she suddenly threw herself down, dashing her head, with all her force, against the iron hearth, on which a fire was burning, and was taken up senseless.