Chapter 14 - Page 2

pause of quite a minute followed,
during which the parties regarded each other in silence, the prisoner
endeavoring in vain to recall the countenances of his guests, and the
girl trembling, equally with grief and apprehension. Then the last
advanced to the feet of the condemned man, knelt, bowed her head,
and said:

"Grandfather, your blessing on the child of your only son."

"Grandfather!--Son!--and his child!" repeated Don Francesco. "I _had_ a
son, to my shame and contrition be it now confessed, but he has long
been dead, I never knew that he left a child!"

"This is his daughter, Signore," replied Carlo Giuntotardi; "her mother
was my sister. You thought us then too humble to be received into so
illustrious a connection, and we have never wished to bring ourselves
before your eyes until we thought our presence might be welcome."

"And thou comest now, good man, to claim affinity with a condemned
criminal!"

"Not so, grandfather," answered a meek voice at his feet, "it is your
son's daughter that craves a blessing from her dying parent. The boon
shall be well requited in prayers for your soul!"

"Holy father! I deserve not this! Here has this tender plant lived,
neglected in the shade, until it raises its timid head to offer its
fragrance in the hour of death! I deserve not this!"

"Son, if heaven offered no mercies until they are merited, hopeless,
truly, would be the lot of man. But we must not admit illusions at such
a moment. Thou art not a husband, Don Francesco; hadst thou ever a son?"

"That, among other sins, have I long since confessed; and as it has been
deeply repented of, I trust it is forgiven. I had a son--a youth who
bore my name, even; though he never dwelt in my palace, until a hasty
and indiscreet marriage banished him from my presence. I ever intended
to pardon him, and to make provision for his wants; but death came too
soon to both husband and wife to grant the time. This much I _did_ know,
and it grieved me that it was so; but of his child, never before this
instant have I heard! 'Tis a sweet countenance, father; it seems the
very abode of truth!"

"Why should we deceive you, grandfather?" rejoined Ghita, stretching her
arms upward, as if yearning for an embrace; "most of all at a time like
this! We come not for honors, or riches, or your great name; we come
simply to crave a blessing, and to let you know that a child of your own
blood will be left on earth to say aves in behalf of your soul"!

"Holy priest, there can be no deception here! This dear child even looks
like her wronged grandmother! and my heart