The individual who had thus stepped forward, gave one rapid but searching glance at the lady’s countenance; and, yielding to the surprise and joy which suddenly animated him, he exclaimed: “Yes—it is, indeed, the lost Agnes!”
The young female started when she heard her name thus pronounced in a place where she believed herself to be entirely unknown; and astonishment for an instant triumphed over the anguish of her heart.
Hastily withdrawing her snow-white arms from the head of the coffin, she turned toward the individual who had uttered her name, and he instantly clasped her in his arms, murmuring, “Dearest—dearest Agnes, art thou restored——”
But the lady shrieked, and struggled to escape from that tender embrace, exclaiming, “What means this insolence? will no one protect me?”
“That will I,” said Francisco, darting forward, and tearing her away from the stranger’s arms. “But, in the name of Heaven! let this misunderstanding be cleared up elsewhere. Lady—and you, signor—I call on you to remember where you are, and how solemn a ceremony you have both aided to interrupt.”
“I know not that man!” ejaculated Agnes, indicating the stranger. “I come hither, because I heard—but an hour ago—that my noble Andrea was no more. And I would not believe those who told me. Oh! no—I could not think that Heaven had thus deprived me of all I loved on earth!”
“Lady, you are speaking of my father,” said Francisco, in a somewhat severe tone.
“Your father!” cried Agnes, now surveying the young count with interest and curiosity. “Oh! then, my lord, you can pity—you can feel for me, who in losing your father have lost all that could render existence sweet!”
“No—you have not lost all!” exclaimed the handsome stranger, advancing toward Agnes, and speaking in a profoundly impressive tone. “Have you not one single relative left in the world? Consider, lady—an old, old man—a shepherd in the Black Forest of Germany——”
“Speak not of him!” cried Agnes, wildly. “Did he know all, he would curse me—he would spurn me from him—he would discard me forever! Oh! when I think of that poor old man, with his venerable white hair,—that aged, helpless man, who was so kind to me, who loved me so well, and whom I so cruelly abandoned. But tell me, signor,” she exclaimed, in suddenly altered tone, while her breath came with the difficulty of acute suspense,—“tell me, signor, does that old man still live?”