conquered fortune.' Oh that I could
go forth and return, as you will. But my father has no country, and his
only child is a useless girl."

As Violante spoke, Leonard had dried his tears; her emotion distracted
him from his own.

"Oh," continued Violante, again raising her head loftily, "what it is to
be a man! A woman sighs, 'I wish,' but man should say 'I will.'"

Occasionally before, Leonard had noted fitful flashes of a nature grand
and heroic, in the Italian child, especially of late--flashes the more
remarkable from their contrast to a form most exquisitely feminine, and
to a sweetness of temper which made even her pride gentle. But now it
seemed as if the child spoke with the command of a queen--almost with
the inspiration of a Muse. A strange and new sense of courage entered
within him.

"May I remember these words!" he murmured half audibly.

The girl turned and surveyed him with eyes brighter for their moisture.
She then extended her hand to him, with a quick movement, and, as he
bent over it, with a grace taught to him by genuine emotion, she
said,--"And if you do, then, girl and child as I am, I shall think I
have aided a brave heart in the great strife for honor!"

She lingered a moment, smiled as if to herself, and then, gliding away,
was lost among the trees.

After a long pause, in which Leonard recovered slowly from the surprise
and agitation into which Violante had thrown his spirits--previously
excited as they were--he went, murmuring to himself, toward the house.
But Riccabocca was from home. Leonard turned mechanically to the
terrace, and busied himself with the flowers. But the dark eyes of
Violante shone on his thoughts, and her voice rang in his ear.

At length Riccabocca appeared, followed up the road by a laborer, who
carried something indistinct under his arm.

The Italian beckoned to Leonard to follow him into the parlor, and after
conversing with him kindly, and at some length, and packing up, as it
were, a considerable provision of wisdom in the portable shape of
aphorisms and proverbs, the sage left him alone for a few moments,
Riccabocca then returned with his wife, and bearing a small knapsack:

"It is not much we can do for you, Leonard, and money is the worst gift
in the world for a keepsake; but my wife and I have put our heads
together to furnish you with a little outfit. Giacomo, who was in our
secret, assures us that the clothes will fit; and stole, I fancy, a coat
of