Art thou not my Ferdinand's bride, and hast thou not so taken the sting, the trial even from this dread moment?
My precious one!--would I could see that face once more--but it is dark--all dark--kiss me, my child!" She threw herself upon his bosom, and covered his cheek with kisses.
He passed his hand feebly over her face, as if the touch could once more bring her features to his sight; and then extending his left hand, feebly called--"Ferdinand!" His nephew caught the withered hand, and kneeling down, pressed it reverentially and fondly to his lips.
Henriquez's lips moved, but there came no word.
"Doubt me not, my more than father! From boyhood to youth, from youth to manhood, I have doted on thy child.

Shall I love and cherish her less now, that she has only me?
Oh, trust me!--if devotion can give joy, she will know no grief, that man can avert, again!" A strange but a beautiful light for a single minute dispersed the fearful shadow creeping over Henriquez's features.
"My son! my son!--I bless thee--and thou, too, my drooping flower.
Julien! my brother--lay me beside my Miriam.

Thou didst not come for this--but it is well.

My children--my friends--send up the hymn of praise--the avowal of our faith; once more awake the voice of our fathers!" He was obeyed; a psalm arose, solemn and sweet, in accents familiar as their mother tongue, to those who chanted; but had any other been near, not a syllable would have been intelligible.

But the voice which in general led to such solemn service--so thrilling in its sweetness, that the most indifferent could not listen to it unmoved--now lay hushed and mute, powerless even to breathe the sobs that crushed her heart.