d.

Harley was no less so. But as if by a sudden impulse, the soldier bent
down his manly head and kissed the poet's brow; then he hastened to the
gate, flung himself on his horse, and rode away.

Chapter XVII.

Lord L'Estrange did not proceed at once to Riccabocca's house. He was
under the influence of a remembrance too deep and too strong to yield
easily to the lukewarm claim of friendship. He rode fast and far; and
impossible it would be to define the feelings that passed through a mind
so acutely sensitive, and so rootedly tenacious of all affections. When he
once more, recalling his duty to the Italian, retraced his road to
Norwood, the slow pace of his horse was significant of his own exhausted
spirits; a deep dejection had succeeded to feverish excitement. "Vain
task," he murmured, "to wean myself from the dead! Yet I am now betrothed
to another; and she, with all her virtues is not the one to--" He stopped
short in generous self-rebuke. "Too late to think of that! Now, all that
should remain to me is to insure the happiness of the life to which I have
pledged my own. But--" He sighed as he so murmured. On reaching the
vicinity of Riccabocca's house, he put up his horse at a little inn, and
proceeded on foot across the heath-land toward the dull square building,
which Leonard's description had sufficed to indicate as the exile's new
home. It was long before any one answered his summons at the gate. Not
till he had thrice rung did he hear a heavy step on the gravel walk
within; then the wicket within the gate was partially drawn aside, a dark
eye gleamed out, and a voice in imperfect English asked who was there.

"Lord L'Estrange; and if I am right as to the person I seek, that name
will at once admit me."

The door flew open as did that of the mystic cavern at the sound of "Open
Sesame;" and Giacomo, almost weeping with joyous emotion, exclaimed in
Italian, "The good Lord! Holy San Giacomo! thou hast heard me at last! We
are safe now." And dropping the blunderbuss with which he had taken the
precaution to arm himself, he lifted Harley's hand to his lips, in the
affectionate greeting familiar to his countrymen.

"And the Padrone?" asked Harley, as he entered the jealous precincts.

"Oh, he is just gone out: but he will not be long. You will wait for him?"

"Certainly. What lady is that I see at the far end of the garden?"

"Bless her, it is our Signorina. I will run and tell her that you are
come.