e her return from France, she had
lived like a recluse. Her only distraction was an occasional visit to
Genoa in search of news of Count Rechberg among the pilgrims returning
from the Holy Land. At first she was successful, for Erwin's name had
acquired a great reputation in Palestine. Many had seen and spoken to
the young hero, and all related his prodigies of valor. But during the
last two years the tidings had been extremely vague and unsatisfactory.
His deeds were still present to the memory of the pilgrims, but none
could speak positively of his fate, and Hermengarde's mind was tortured
with the most mournful apprehensions.--He must have fallen battling
against the infidels, she thought, as the tears coursed down her
cheeks.

But hope rarely abandons the human heart, and the sad girl trusted
always in God's mercy. Still each day her steps grew feebler and her
cheeks more pale, like a lamp which flashes feebly and then is
extinguished forever.

Formerly she frequented a little terrace whence she could overlook the
valley and the distant sea, and each sail that hove in sight she would
fancy was the one which was bringing home her betrothed husband. But at
last the terrace was deserted; for months Hermengarde had watched no
longer--she had lost all hope. Time cures every wound, Guido thought,
as he watched his daughter.

To judge from appearances, Bonello's prognostications were correct. The
girl became more calm, the journeys to Genoa less frequent, and
Rechberg's name rarely passed her lips. To please her father, she
sometimes visited a noble family of the neighborhood, but it was solely
through filial obedience, and the visits were rare and of short
duration. Still Bonello, assured that Erwin had shared the untimely
fate of many of the Crusaders, was thinking of proposing another
husband to his daughter, one who, if not so distinguished, was at least
worthy of her. Old age looks at matters under a different aspect from
youth. Experience had taught him the vanity of earthly aspirations, and
he considered everything with cool and calm deliberation, for he
thought it a matter urgent and important to secure for Hermengarde a
husband who would watch over her happiness after her father's death.

"I am old," he thought; "I may die at any time, and my daughter must
not be left defenceless and unprotected."

The idea had long been ripening in his mind, and his choice had fallen
upon the only son of this same family of