very looks portended that her mind was brooding some great purpose.
"Come, Lorenzo," quoth she, kneeling a second time, "thou shalt see thy father. Here he is—go, and kiss him."
"Is it he, mother?" asked the prattling little innocent, "he says nothing to me."
—"What shall this mean, Francisca?" interrupted my friend.
—"Let me, my husband," said she, trespass for a few minutes on thy patience, You know, that on leaving you, I bore a pledge of your love, under my heart. It might grieve you to know it in bad hands, I will therefore return it now."
—"Ah, Francisca, that I never had a living witness of thy cruelty."
—"Interrupt me not, dear spouse. It is the last will, the last sigh of a dying woman. Rememberest thou, Pedro, the days of my bridal state, when I dropt into thy longing arms, a guiltless wife?—Behold, it was then, I received this pledge as the intended token of lasting bliss. The time is past; and here thou hast it again."
