Chapter 2 - Page 2

was gazing with a tearful
eye at the faded but still eminently attractive features of the young
female, who rewarded his solicitude with a look of love; "but thou hast
not seen I am the man I represent myself to be."

"It is not necessary, noble baron; the city knows of your presence, and I
have it, in especial charge, to do all that may be grateful to render the
passage through Geneva, of one so honored among our allies, agreeable to
his recollections."

"Thy city's courtesy is of known repute," said the Baron de Willading,
replacing his papers in their usual envelope, and receiving the grace like
one accustomed to honors of this sort:--"art thou a father?"

"Heaven has not been niggardly of gifts of this nature: my table feeds
eleven, besides those who gave them being."

"Eleven!--The will of God is a fearful mystery! And this thou seest is the
sole hope of my line;--the only heir that is left to the name and lands of
Willading! Art thou at ease in thy condition?"

"There are those in our town who are less so, with many thanks for the
friendliness of the question."

A slight color suffused the face of Adelheid de Willading, for so was the
daughter of the Bernese called, and she advanced a step nearer to the
officer.

"They who have so few at their own board, need think of those who have so
many," she said, dropping a piece of gold into the hand of the Genevese:
then she added, in a voice scarce louder than a whisper--"If the young and
innocent of thy household can offer a prayer in the behalf of a poor girl
who has much need of aid, 'twill be remembered of God, and it may serve to
lighten the grief of one who has the dread of being childless."

"God bless thee, lady!" said the officer, little used to deal with such
spirits, and touched by the mild resignation and piety of the speaker,
whose simple but winning manner moved him nearly to tears; "all of my
family, old as well as young, shall bethink them of thee and thine."

Adelheid's cheek resumed its paleness, and she quietly accompanied her
father, as he slowly proceeded towards the bark. A scene of this nature
did not fail to shake the pertinacity of those who stood at watch near the
gate. Of course they had nothing to say to any of the rank of Melchior de
Willading, who went into the bark without a question. The influence of
beauty and station united to so much simple grace as that shown by the
fair actor in the little incident we have just related, was much too
strong for the ill-trained feelings of the Neapolitan and his companions.
They not only let all the menials pass unquestioned also, but it was some