"Margharita,—I have received your letter, and I have pondered over it. You are young to have such a sorrow, yet I do not doubt but that you will act as becomes your race. You can never think of marriage with this man; you a Marioni, he a St. Maurice! Yet I grieve that you have let such a feeling steal into your heart. Pluck it out, Margharita, I charge you; pluck it out by the roots! Think not of the wrong done to me, or, if you do, think of me not as a man and your uncle, but as Count Leonardo di Marioni, the head of my family, the head of your family. We have been the victims, but the day of our vengeance is at hand. There is no life without its sorrows, child! In the days to come, happiness will teach you to forget this one.

"Farewell, my child. I shall send you no more notes. Write or come to me the moment the deed is done! Come to me, if you can; I would hear your own lips tell me the news. Yet do as seems best to you. In sympathy and love,

"L. di M.

"One word more, child. Do not for a moment imagine that I blame you for what has happened. Old man though I am, I too know something of the marvels and the vagaries of this same love. Will can have little to do with its course. I, who have suffered so deeply, Margharita, can and do sympathize and feel for you."


This is the letter. I shall seal it up with the others, and this little record of my life, on the last page of which I am now writing. When I leave here they will go with me.

Yes, it is the dawn of a new day. Shall I ever see another, I wonder? I think not! For me, no longer will the sun rise and set, the breezes blow, and the earth be fair and sweet. All these things might have been so much to me, for I have held in my hand the key to an everlasting happiness—that deathless love which opens the gates to heaven; which sanctifies life and hallows death. Oh! forgive me that I leave you, my love! There was no other way. Only I pray that in that other world we may meet again in the days to come, and that the music of our love may ring once more through heart and soul. Farewell! Farewell!


CHAPTER XXXI

AN OLD MAN'S HATE