Annabel started as if an adder had stung her.
“A bridal gift? Said you not so? A bridal gift? From whom is it, my father?”
“His grace, the Duke of Florence, sends thee this rare and costly present. He sends it with his ardent wishes for thy health. He sends these jewels with the hope that ere three days have run their sands, he may behold them shining on the brow of his fair bride—the Ladye Annabel, Duchess of Florence.”
As in a calm and determined tone he spoke these words, a deadly paleness came over the damsel’s face; her lips dropped apart, and her fair blue eyes distended with a vacant look, the slender fingers of each hand slowly straightened, unclasping their grasp of the casket, which fell heavily to the floor, as her arms dropped listlessly by her side.
The old man surveyed his child for an instant with a look which told of his deep, his yearning affection, combined with the strange fancies ruling his destiny through life. In an instant he again spoke, and his voice, as it came from the depths of his chest, sounded wild and thrilling to the maiden’s ear.
“My daughter!” said he, taking her by the hand, “thou shall wed this man!”
Annabel replied not.
“Thou shalt, I say, wed the Lord of Florence. It must be so; therefore it were well that thou dost prepare thee for the bridal. I say it shall be so, my daughter. The word of Aldarin is passed!”
“Father,” replied the Ladye Annabel, in tremulous tones; “father, O! look not so sternly at me, your eyes chill my very heart. I would do your bidding—the Virgin and all the saints witness me, I would—but, father—”
“Annabel,” said the Count, in his deep tones of enthusiasm, “I have said it, and it shall be so. Wed the Duke of Florence, and behold thyself a—queen! All that heart can wish, or the wildest fancy desires, shalt thou possess, and claim as thine own. Wealth shall lavish its stores around thee, and honor shall bring the fairest and the noblest to bow low at the feet of the Ladye Annabel, Duchess of Florence.