had recovered from
her terror, he had reached the deck and was in his uncle's arms.

Mr. Van de Werve mounted the ladder cautiously, and approached Signor
Deodati, with whom he exchanged the most cordial salutations.

Mary remained in the gondola; she saw Geronimo embrace his uncle
repeatedly; she rejoiced to perceive that the eyes of the old man were
filled with tears of emotion. She was still more happy when she saw the
affability with which her father and Geronimo's uncle conversed together,
as though they were old friends.

Very soon the Signor Deodati descended into the gondola to accompany Mr.
Van de Werve and Geronimo to the city.

The Flemish cavalier introduced his daughter to the Italian noble.

The old man gazed upon the ravishing beauty of the young girl in
speechless admiration. Mary's lovely features were illumined by an
enchanting smile which moved the old man's heart; her large blue eyes were
fixed upon him with so soft and supplicating an expression that the Signor
Deodati, extending his hand, murmured: "_E la graziosa donzella!_" (The
beautiful girl!)

But Mary, encouraged by his look of affection, and unconsciously urged by
a mysterious instinct, extended both hands to the old man, who folded her
in his arms and pressed her to his heart.

Geronimo, overjoyed at the reception given to Mary by his uncle, turned
aside to conceal his emotion.

"_Iddio vi dia pace in nostra patria!_ May God grant you peace in our
country, Signor Deodati!" said Mary, taking the old man's hand. "Come sit
by me; I am so happy to know you. Do not think me bold; Geronimo has
spoken so much of you, that I have long respected and loved you. And then,
in our Netherlands we always welcome a stranger as a brother."

Signor Deodati seated himself by her as she desired, and as the gondola
returned to the city, the old man said, in surprise: "But you speak
Italian like a native of Lucca. How soft and musical my native tongue
sounds from your lips!"

"There is my teacher," said Mary, pointing to Geronimo.

"That is not true, my uncle. Her modesty causes her to mislead you. Miss
Van de Werve speaks equally well both Spanish and French, nor is she
ignorant of Latin."

"Can that be so?" asked the elder Deodati, with an incredulous smile.

"That is nothing extraordinary in our city of Antwerp," said Mr. Van de
Werve. "Most ladies of noble birth, and even merchants' daughters, speak
two or three foreign languages. It is a nec