rally to his long fast, that alarm once more gave place to hope
in the heart of his daughter. Not thus, however, felt her
father--convinced that death could not be long delayed, he but waited
for his nephew's appearance and acknowledged love for his cousin,
at once to give her to him, and prepare her for the worst. Parental
anxiety naturally increased with every hour that passed, and Ferdinand
appeared not.

It was the eve of the Sabbath; one from which in general all earthly
cares and thoughts were banished, giving place to tranquil and
spiritual joy. The father and daughter were alone within their lovely
tent, but both so wrapt in evidently painful thought, that a strange
silence usurped the usual cheerful converse. So unwonted was the
anxious gloom on Manuel's brow, that his child could bear it no
longer, and flinging her arms round his neck, she besought him in the
tenderest accents to confide in her, as he had ever done, since her
mother's death, to tell her what so pained him--might she not remove
it? Henriquez could not resist that fond yet mournful pleading. He
told her, that he felt health was departing, that death seemed ever
hovering near, but that its pain, its care, would all depart, could he
behold his long-cherished wish fulfilled, and his Marie the wife
of Ferdinand, whose every look and tone during his last visit had
betrayed his devoted love.

Marie heard; and her cheek and lips blanched to such ashy whiteness,
that her father in alarm folded her to his breast; and sought to
soothe a grief, which he believed was occasioned merely by the sudden
and fearful thought of his approaching death; and sought to soothe,
by a reference to the endearing love, the cherished tenderness which
would still be hers; how Ferdinand would be to her all, aye more
than all that he had been, and how, with love like his, she would be
happier than she had been yet. Much he said, and he might have said
still more, for it was long ere the startled girl could interrupt him.
But when he conjured her to speak to him, not to look upon his death
so fearfully, the beautiful truth of her nature rose up against the
involuntary deceit. It was not his death which thus appalled her;
alas--alas!--and she hated herself for the fearful thought--she had
almost lost sight of that, in the words which followed. Breaking from
his embrace, she sunk down on her knees before him, and buying her
face upon his hand, in broken accents and with choking