ess before
reaching her own apartment.

All, with the exception of the perfidious Turchi, were moved by compassion
for the unhappy young girl.

As the duenna opened the door to let her mistress pass out, strange sounds
were heard in the vestibule.

Mary started, and stepped back into the room, as though in presence of
some apparition.

"It is his ghost, his spirit," she exclaimed, "arisen from the grave to
demand vengeance upon his murderers!"

She gazed with intense emotion, then added, in accents of the wildest joy:

"He smiles upon me; it is himself! He lives! It is Geronimo!"

Pronouncing this cherished name, she fell insensible in the arms of her
attendant, who, assisted by the bailiff, carried her to an armchair.

Signor Geronimo entered. His face was as pale and fleshless as that of a
skeleton. The wound he had received in his neck appeared like a large spot
of clotted blood--his garments were disordered, soiled, and blood stained.
He seemed really a spectre just arisen from the tomb.

As soon as Turchi recognized his victim, he recoiled, uttering a cry of
terror; and imagining that God had permitted a miracle in order to punish
his crime, he extended his trembling hands to Geronimo, as if to implore
pardon.

The young man cast upon him a look of disgust and contempt, and exclaimed:

"You here, assassin? Tremble, for the Supreme Judge will demand of you an
account of my blood and of Julio's death."

A murmur of surprise and terror ran through the room; all eyes were fixed
on Simon Turchi, who seemed crushed by Geronimo's words.

Having thus addressed Turchi, Geronimo rushed into his uncle's arms and
embraced him in a transport of joy.

"Oh, unexpected happiness!" he exclaimed. "It is permitted me to see my
uncle again in this world! I know you have suffered; you have suffered as
a father deprived of his only child! No more sorrow now. I will repay you
for your tender affection; I will love you; I will show my gratitude; I
will venerate you. Ah! bless the God of mercy, who has saved me from the
fangs of that tiger thirsting for my blood! But Mary, where is Mary? Ah!
there she is! My beloved friend, what has happened?"

He ran to the insensible young girl, knelt before her, and endeavored to
recall her to consciousness by every endearing epithet.

In the meantime Mr. Van de Werve aided the duenna in her exertions to
restore animation. Taking advantage of this, Simon Turchi walked towards
the door