The young lady appeared. She was still pale and emaciated.
“Take her, take her, man,” cried the old cavalier. “May God bless you, and preserve you to see the day when the king shall enjoy his own again.”
The priest blessed the union, and Lorenzo, after disposing of Appadocca’s followers, lived happy in the retreat of the plantation.
Jack Jimmy served the officer of his young master with fidelity. A smile, however, was never seen more on his face; and when the winds howled more loudly than usual, the drops calmly fell from his now aged eyes.
In a certain city of Venezuela, Feliciana might be seen in her white veil, and her sombre dress, amidst the abodes of the heart-stricken and afflicted; she was known as the “Succouring Mother.” Twice a-year she might also be seen on her pilgrimage to Trinidad, when she plucked the weeds from off his mother’s tomb, and tended the sea-grape tree that grew over the lonely grave of Emmanuel Appadocca.
THE END.
LONDON: SAMUEL BIRD, PRINTER, BOW STREET, COVENT GARDEN.