urage the
feeling that there is no room for hope."

"It is impossible to make any impression upon her," said the duenna, in a
disappointed manner, and as if she were resolved to cease her efforts and
to abandon the young girl to her grief.

The silence was broken by the sound of voices in the hall.

"I hear the voice of the Signor Deodati," said the duenna; "perhaps he
brings tidings."

Mary rose quickly to descend; but Petronilla wished to detain her, saying:

"My child, in pity to a sorrowing old man, restrain your grief. Control
yourself, Mary, for yesterday each word you uttered pierced the heart of
the poor Deodati like a dagger. It would be cruel and guilty in you to
cause his tears to flow anew; at his age such affliction wears down the
strength and shortens life."

"No, Petronilla, I will hide my feelings, and I will appear hopeful. I saw
that the old man was overpowered by anxiety and trouble. Trust me,
Petronilla, and let me go; I must know from the Signor Deodati if he has
received any information."

The duenna accompanied the young girl to the door of the room where Mr.
Van de Werve and Signor Deodati were conversing together, but she let her
enter alone.

As soon as Mary's eye fell on the old man, and she read in his face the
sorrow of his soul, she uttered a stifled cry of anguish. She cast her
arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder.

The Signor Deodati, deeply moved, seated her by his side, and said, with
tender compassion:

"My poor Mary, we have no tidings yet of our Geronimo. Are we not unhappy?
Why did not God recall me to himself ere this? Did I leave Italy and come
hither to drink the bitter dregs in my chalice of life? Could I weep like
you, Mary, I might find some relief, but old age has dried up my tears.
Alas! alas! where is my poor Geronimo, the child whom God gave me, to
close my eyes on the bed of death? I would give my fortune to save him,
and the little that remains to me of life to know that he still lives."

Tears filled Mr. Van de Werve's eyes as he contemplated his daughter and
the desolate old man; but he controlled his emotion, and said:

"Mary, I requested you to stay in your own apartment, because you cannot
moderate the expression of your sorrow. You have disregarded my desire. I
willingly pardon you, my child; but if you wish to remain longer with
Signor Deodati, you must exercise some self-control; otherwise I shall
send for your duenna to take yo