ken--you know not the old man whom I deserted,
and who was a shepherd on the verge of the Black Forest!" interrupted
Agnes, in a tone expressive of bitter disappointment, "for he, who loved
me so well, was old--very old, and could not possibly accomplish those
long wanderings of which you speak. Indeed, if he be still alive--but
that is scarcely possible----"

And she burst into tears.

"Agnes," cried the stranger, "the venerable shepherd of whom you speak
accomplished those wanderings in spite of the ninety winters which
marked his age. He is alive, too----"

"He is alive!" ejaculated the lady, with reviving hopes.

"He is alive--and at this moment in Florence!" was the emphatic answer.
"Did I not ere now tell thee as much in the church?"

"Yes--I remember--but my brain is confused!" murmured Agnes, pressing
her beautiful white hands upon her polished brow. "Oh, if he be indeed
alive--and so near me as you say--delay not in conducting me to him; for
he is now the only being on earth to whom I dare look for solace and
sympathy."

"You are even now beneath the roof of your grandfather's dwelling," said
the stranger, speaking slowly and anxiously watching the effect which
this announcement was calculated to produce upon her to whom he
addressed himself.

"Here!--this my grandsire's abode!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands
together, and glancing upward, as if to express her gratitude to Heaven
for this welcome intelligence. "But how can that old man, whom I left so
poor, have become the owner of this lordly palace? Speak, signor!--all
you have told me seems to involve some strange mystery," she added with
breathless rapidity. "Those wanderings of which you ere now
spoke--wanderings over the world, performed by a man bent down by age;
and then this noble dwelling--the appearances of wealth which present
themselves around--the splendor--the magnificence----"

"All--all are the old man's," answered the stranger, "and may some day
become thine!"

"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Agnes, sinking upon the ottoman from which she
had ere now risen, "I thank thee that thou hast bestowed these blessings
on my relative in his old age. And yet," she added, again overwhelmed by
doubts, "it is scarcely possible--no, it is too romantic to be true!
Signor, thou art of a surety mistaken in him whom thou supposes to be my
grandsire?"

"Give me thine hand, Agnes--and I will convince thee," said the
stranger.

The young lady complied m