"Thy pain, Marina? and thy face--and for the young noble, Giustiniani? I
do not understand."

"Father, because I could grant him nothing and he would give me
everything, and because--because God sent the love and the Madonna hath
made me feel that it would be sweet, I granted him only this--my
portrait--because he pleaded so one could not resist; and because he
said it would win the consent of all to see that he treated me like a
queen!"

"Nay; one comes not in secret to steal the love of a queen."

"My father," answered the maiden proudly, for he had drawn away from
her, "there is no stealing of that which I would gladly yield him, if it
were thy pleasure and that of the Ca' Giustiniani! And there would have
been no secret; but I--to spare thee pain of knowing that I suffered--I
would not let him come to plead with thee."

"Why shouldst thou suffer?"

"It is hard to lose thy love when only I told thee not because I would
spare thee pain! Father--I have only thee!" Her courage broke in a quick
sob.

"Nay, then--nay, then," he faltered softly, stroking her bowed head; "he
is no man to love, if he would let thee suffer; he should take
thee--before them all--if he would be worthy----"

The low, intense, interrupted words were a brave surrender.

"Ay, my father, it is like Marco to hear thee speak!"

"Then let him come and make thee Lady of the Giustiniani, like a true
knight!" exclaimed the old man fiercely.

"Ay, father, so would he; but I have told him that thou and I are not
less proud than those of his own house, and without their consent it may
not be."

"Nay, I care not for their house--only for thy happiness; he shall wed
thee, and my home is thine; I have enough for thee and him; he shall not
make thee suffer."

They were close together now, father and daughter--a beautiful group in
the yellow lamplight against the dark background that surrounded them
like an impassible fate; her face was a study of happiness, tenderness,
suffering, and strength; her father wrapped her close in his protecting
arms, and thus she could bear everything. They were silent for a while:
he trying to accept the revelation in its strangeness, she planning how
she should make him understand.

"I am glad thou knowest it, dear father," she said at length, very
softly. "I have thy love--I can bear everything."

"Nay, thou shalt have nothing to bear! Thou shalt be Lady of the
Giustiniani--what means the portrait else?"

"It