Francisco’s tears flowed freely; but Nisida did not weep!
A strange—an almost portentous light shone in her brilliant black eyes; and though that wild gleaming denoted powerful emotions, yet it shed no luster upon the depths of her soul—afforded no clew to the real nature of these agitated feelings.
Suddenly withdrawing himself from his sister’s arms, Francisco conveyed to her by the language of the fingers the following tender sentiment:—“You have lost a father, beloved Nisida, but you have a devoted and affectionate brother left to you!”
And Nisida replied through the same medium, “Your happiness, dearest brother, has ever been my only study, and shall continue so.”
The physician and Father Marco, the priest, now advanced, and taking the brother and sister by the hands, led them from the chamber of death.
“Kind friends,” said Francisco, now Count of Riverola, “I understand you. You would withdraw my sister and myself from a scene too mournful to contemplate. Alas! it is hard to lose a father; but especially so at my age, inexperienced as I am in the ways of the world!”
“The world is indeed made up of thorny paths and devious ways, my dear young friend,” returned the physician; “but a stout heart and integrity of purpose will ever be found faithful guides. The more exalted and the wealthier the individual, the greater the temptations he will have to encounter. Reflect upon this, Francisco: it is advice which I, as an old—indeed, the oldest friend of your family—take the liberty to offer.”
With these words, the venerable physician wrung the hands of the brother and sister, and hurried from the house, followed by the priest.
The orphans embraced each other, and retired to their respective apartments.