She cast her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder.
The Signor Deodati, deeply moved, seated her by his side, and said, with tender compassion: "My poor Mary, we have no tidings yet of our Geronimo.

Are we not unhappy?
Why did not God recall me to himself ere this?
Did I leave Italy and come hither to drink the bitter dregs in my chalice of life?
Could I weep like you, Mary, I might find some relief, but old age has dried up my tears.
Alas! alas! where is my poor Geronimo, the child whom God gave me, to close my eyes on the bed of death?
I would give my fortune to save him, and the little that remains to me of life to know that he still lives." Tears filled Mr.Van de Werve's eyes as he contemplated his daughter and the desolate old man; but he controlled his emotion, and said: "Mary, I requested you to stay in your own apartment, because you cannot moderate the expression of your sorrow.

You have disregarded my desire.

I willingly pardon you, my child; but if you wish to remain longer with Signor Deodati, you must exercise some self-control; otherwise I shall send for your duenna to take you away." He then added, in a more gentle manner: "Now, Mary, I beg, I supplicate you, comprehend the duty devolving upon you.

Be courageous, and do your best to console our unhappy friend." With a heroic effort Mary raised her head, and although still weeping, said: "You are right, father.