ven by this half light
I can see a figure standing on the rock at the foot of the mountain
waiting for him, just where the pathway from St. Stephano comes down to
the water.'

'The Gobbo, I suppose,' said Gerald, half mockingly, as he showed the
rapier he still held in his hand.

'And if it be he, boy, there is no need to laugh,' said Tina,
shuddering. 'The dark waters of that lake there, that cover some of his
handiwork, if they could speak, would tell you so.'

'Then what am I to do, Tina?'' said he, throwing open the door. 'You
'd not have me meet them on the shore there and begin the attack, would
you?'

If Gerald threw out this suggestion as impracticable, it was yet
precisely the course he was longing himself to follow, and most eager
that she should assent to.

'The Blessed Virgin forbid it!' cried she, crossing herself. 'There is
but one road to take, and that is yonder,' and she pointed to a little
rugged footpath that wound its way over the mountain, which joined the
frontier with Tuscany.

'And am I in meet condition to travel, Tina?' said he jestingly, as he
showed his ragged dress and pulled out the lining of his empty pockets.

'There is Signor Gabriel's cape,' said she; 'it is almost as good as a
cloak: he left it with me, but I have no need of it; and there is the
crown-piece you gave me yourself when you were ill of the fever, and I
want it just as little.'

The boy struggled hard to refuse both, but the sorrow Tina felt for
the rejection at last overcame him, and, half in shame and half in
pleasure--for the sense of exacting sacrifice is pleasure, deny it how
we may--he yielded, and accepted her gift.

'Oh, Tina, will there ever come a day when I can repay this kindness?'
said he. 'I almost think there will.'

'To be sure, Gerald, and you 'll not forget me even if there should not.
You who were taught by the pious Frati how to pray will surely say a
good word in your devotions for a poor girl like Tina.'

The boy's heart overflowed with emotion at the trait of simple piety,
and he kissed her twice with all the affection of a fond brother.
'Good-bye, Tina,' said he, sobbing; 'I feel stronger and stouter in
heart, now that I know your kind wishes are going along with me--they
are better to me, love, than a purse full of money.'

'Do not take that sword, Gerald,' said she, trying to take the weapon
from him. 'If you enter a village with a rapier at your side, they 'll
call you a brigand, a