few moments to spare me--Marco!"

Coming forward through the shadow of the doorway, the young
noble--deferent, masterful, unrenouncing--was a suitor not easily to be
baffled by any claims of Venice.

Girolamo turned quickly to his child, then looked away, for her face
made a radiance in the room; he, her father, who had loved her through
all the days of her maiden life with a great tenderness, had never known
the fullness of her beauty until now; the soft folds of the simple robe
flowing away from her into the surrounding shadow left the pure young
charm of her head and face in luminous relief, as the brilliant young
noble, in embroidered velvet and silken hose and jeweled clasps--a type
of sumptuous modern day Venice--stepped forward into the little circle
of light, bowing before her with courtly deference.

The vision of those youthful faces made it easy to forget the outward
contrast--a mere accident of birth.

Girolamo Magagnati had promised himself that he would be a true knight
to his beloved child; he would question and prove this bold young noble
who claimed, with such presumption, so great a prize--not humbly suing,
as he should have done; he would make him tremble and wait; he should
learn that his daughter was not to be the more easily won because she
was of the people! Then, with the fullness of his vow upon him, and with
a heart loving indeed, but brave as proud, he had raised his eyes and
beheld a vision in which neither nobles nor people held part--only a
maiden, glorified by her love and trust; and a lover--prince or peasant
it mattered not--for on his face it was luminously written that in all
the world there was for him none other than she. And the vision, like an
apprehension of Truth--rare and very beautiful--conquered Girolamo,
because he was strong enough to yield.

"It is but a moment that I have for this dearest claim of the day," said
Marcantonio Giustiniani, turning to the older man with winning courtesy;
"and sooner should I have come to the father of Marina to crave the
grace I cannot do without, but that she bade me tarry. Yet now--she
herself hath spoken?"

He looked from one to the other questioningly.

"There are no secrets between us," Girolamo answered with dignity, while
weighing some words that should welcome his daughter's suitor with
discretion and reserve.

But the maiden broke in timidly: "And he is not angry, Marco mio!"

"Nay, my favor is for him who truly honors my d