Hardly had he left the hall when an old woman entered, and seated herself near the door. She drew a chaplet from her pocket, and commenced praying in a low voice. This was apparently an habitual act with her, for neither the young girl nor the young man took the least notice of the duenna.
Mary approached her lover, and said, gaily: "Rejoice, Geronimo! My father has just promised not to propose very heavy conditions to your uncle."
"I am most grateful for his kindness," said the young man, sadly.
"What can be the matter?" asked Mary, surprised by his indifference. "I noticed you were depressed when you first came. Be more hopeful; perhaps the Il Salvatore will ascend the Scheldt to-day."
"God grant it may not arrive!" said Geronimo, heaving a deep sigh.
"Do you then fear your uncle's arrival?" exclaimed Mary, in an agitated voice.
"Do not speak so loud, Mary; your duenna must not hear what I am about to communicate to you. Yes; since yesterday morning I have dreaded my uncle's arrival. Previously I implored it of Heaven as the choicest blessing, and now the thought of it makes me tremble."
"Have you then heard from your uncle?"
"Alas! my friend, at the very moment when all seemed the brightest, when I was thanking God for a happiness which I thought already mine, a dark cloud comes to overshadow my life. I seem even now to hear my uncle's voice pronouncing the cruel sentence which condemns me to a life-long sorrow."
The young girl turned deadly pale, and anxiously awaited an explanation of the mystery.