on forbidden
ground.

"To announce the birth of my unhappy boy," continued the Signor Grimaldi,
firmly.

"To announce that much-wished-for event, I have not had news of thee,
except in a way so vague, as to whet the desire to know more rather than
to appease the longings of love."

"These doubts are the penalties that friendship pays to separation. We
enlist the affections in youth with the recklessness of hope, and, when
called different ways by duties or interest, we first begin to perceive
that the world is not the heaven we thought it, but that each enjoyment
has its price, as each grief has its solace. Thou hast carried arms since
we were soldiers in company?"

"As a Swiss only."

The answer drew a gleam of habitual humor from, the keen eye of the
Italian, whose countenance was apt to change as rapidly as his thoughts.

"In what service?"

"Nay, a truce to thy old pleasantries, good Grimaldi--and yet I should
scarce love thee, as I do, wert thou other than thou art! I believe we
come at last to prize even the foibles of those we truly esteem!"

"It must be so, young lady, or boyish follies would long since have weaned
thy father from me. I have never spared him on the subjects of snows and
money, and yet he beareth with me marvellously. Well, strong love endureth
much. Hath the baron often spoken to thee of old Grimaldi--young
Grimaldi, I should say--and of the many freaks of our thoughtless days?"

"So much, Signore," returned Adelheid, who had wept and smiled by turns
during the interrupted dialogue of her father and his friend, "that I can
repeat most of your youthful histories. The castle of Willading is deep
among the mountains, and it is rare indeed for the foot of stranger to
enter its gates. During the long evenings of our severe winters, I have
listened as a daughter would be apt to listen to the recital of most of
your common adventures, and in listening, I have not only learned to know,
but to esteem, one that is justly so dear to my parent."

"I make no doubt, now, thou hast the history of the plunge into the canal,
by over-stooping to see the Venetian beauty, at thy finger's ends?"

"I do remember some such act of humid gallantry," returned Adelheid,
laughing.

"Did thy father tell thee, child, of the manner in which he bore me off in
a noble rescue from a deadly charge of the Imperial cavalry?"

"I have heard some light allusion to such an event, too," returned
Adelheid, evidently try