s do not seem to understand their position. It is odd. But dry
thine eyes, my dear child; thou wilt make thyself ill. And really--"

The Countess was too kind to finish the sentence. But Beatrice could
guess that she thought there was really nothing to weep over in the
massacre of a few scores of Jews. She found little sympathy among the
younger members of the family party. Margaret said she was sorry, but
it was evidently for the fact that her friend was in trouble, not for
the event over which she was sorrowing. Eva openly expressed profound
scorn of both the Jews and the sorrow.

Marie wanted to know if some friend of Beatrice were among the slain:
because, if not, why should she care any thing about it? Doucebelle
alone seemed capable of a little sympathy.

But before the evening was over, Beatrice found there was one Christian
who could enter into all her feelings. She was slowly crossing the
ante-chamber in the twilight, when she found herself intercepted and
drawn into Bruno's arms.

"My darling!" he said, tenderly. "I am sent to thee with heavy
tidings."

Poor Beatrice laid her tired head on her father's breast, with the
feeling that she had one friend left in the world.

"I know it, dear Father. But it is such a comfort that you feel it with
me."

"There are not many who will, I can guess," answered Bruno. "But, my
child, I am afraid thou dost not know all."

"Father!--what is it?" asked Beatrice, fearfully.

"One has fallen in that massacre, very dear to thee and me, my
daughter."

"Delecresse?" She thought him the most likely to be in London of any of
the family.

"No. Delecresse is safe, so far as I know."

"Is it Uncle Moss?--or Levi my cousin?"

"Beatrice, it is Abraham the son of Ursel, the father of us all."

The low cry of utter desolation which broke from the girl's lips was
pitiful to hear.

"`My father, my father! the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen
thereof!'"

Bruno let her weep passionately, until the first burst of grief was
over. Then he said, gently, "Be comforted, my Beatrice. I believe that
he sleeps in Jesus, and that God shall bring him with Him."

"He was not baptised?" asked Beatrice, in some surprise that Bruno
should think so.

"He was ready for it. He had spoken to a friend of mine--one Friar
Saher de Kilvingholme--on the subject. And the Lord would not refuse to
receive him because his brow had not been touched by water, when He had
baptis