"You forget the other side," said she; "what if Sir Robert Evelyn refuse to receive for his daughter the unknown and portionless Italian; how shall I brook to be the first cause of difference between a father and son, to whom the averted look and the harsh word have been hitherto unknown?"
The young Englishman gazed for a moment tenderly on her beautiful face.
"The averted look, the harsh word, such are not for you, Francesca!"
"Methinks," returned the Italian, "they would he but my fitting reward. How could your father expect a daughter's love from one who had left her own in his old age; left him, too, without his blessing; nay, without his knowledge; his solitude embittered by anxiety for one who had no pity on his age, no memory for his care. I have heard, Evelyn, and have often read, in the tales of my own land, how, for her strange and sudden passion, a maiden has left home and parents, forgetting how her infancy was watched and her youth cherished. So could not I. Few and feeble are the steps which my father must measure towards the grave; but during those few, I must be at his side, Evelyn. How holy the
