The evening being somewhat warm, the broach that fastened Florian’s doublet at the neck, was unloosed, and the opening garment gave to view a neck of the most surpassing whiteness, spreading into shoulders of flowing outline, and budding into a bosom of virgin tracery of form, all glowing with the warm blood of youth, and heaving with the pulsations of passion.
CHAPTER THE SECOND.
THE CLOUD GATHERS AND THE SKY DARKENS.
The dame essayed to speak. Her voice died away in an unmeaning rattle of the throat. One hand she extended, and seizing Leone by the shoulder, with the other she tore the maiden from his embrace—
“Apostate!” she began in tones that trembled with rage, “is it thus thou honorest the race whose name thou bearest. Away!—I will never look upon thee more! Away!—and with thee take thy——, I will not speak the title of shame;—Away!”
As she spoke she raised her hand to strike the shrinking maiden, who, with head drooped on her bosom, and quick blushes coursing over her face, strove hurriedly to fasten the broach of her doublet.
“Strike her not, mother!” cried Leone, throwing himself before the damsel, “Assail her not with words of shame!”
He took the hand of the blushing maiden and continued—“Fear not, love, there is none to harm thee. Mother, behold my bride!”
“Annabel!—Thy bride? Wherefore this concealment? Why this unmaidenly disguise? How is’t, my son—how is’t?”
“As for the disguise it was assumed to aid her escape, and then,”—he whispered into his mother’s ear—“and then I thought thou wouldst not affect the niece of the—the—s’life, mother, I cannot speak the word of any one connected with Annabel!”
“My son, my son! what hast thou done? Answer me—befits such doings with thy profession? Art thou not intended for a minister of Heaven?”