They had come strangers into Tuscany, the Signora Montani and her daughter, but a year or two before. The signora was in deep grief for the loss of her husband, and they lived the most secluded life, making no acquaintances. They were scarcely known by name or by sight, and, save the Count di Visinara, no visitors were ever found there. The signora was of northern extraction, and of the Reformed faith, and had reared her daughter in the principles of the latter, which of itself would cause them to court seclusion, at that period, in Italy. And the Lord of Visinara, independent and haughty as he was by nature and by position, would no more have dared to take Gina Montani to be his wedded wife, than he would have braved his Mightiness the Pope in St. Peter's chair. II. It was on a calm moonlight night, that a closely-wrapped-up form stood in the deep shade of a grove of cypress-trees, within the gates of the Castle of Visinara, anxiously watching. Parties passed and repassed, and the figure stirred not; but now there came one, the very echo of whose footsteps had command in it, and the form advanced stealthily, and glided out of its hiding-place, right upon the path of the Lord of Visinara. He stood still, and faced the intruder. "Who are you--and what do you do here?" "I came to bid you farewell, my Lord; to wish you joy of your marriage!" And, throwing back the mantle and hood, Gina Montani's fragile form stood out to view. "You here, Gina!" "Ay; I have struggled long--long. Pride, resentment, jealousy--I have struggled fiercely with them; but all are forgotten in my unhappy love." He folded her to his heart, as in their happy days. "You depart to-morrow morning on your way to bring home your bride. I have seen your preparations; I have watched the movements of your retainers. No farewell was given me--no word offered of consolation--no last visit vouchsafed." It would seem that he could not gainsay her words, for he made no reply. "Know you how long it is since we met?" she continued; "how long--" "Reproach me not," he interrupted. "I have suffered more than you, and, for a farewell visit, I did not dare to trust myself." "And so this is to be the end of your enduring love, that you said was to be mine, and only mine, till death!" "And before Heaven I spoke the truth. I have never loved--I never shall love but you. Yet, Gina, what would you have me do? I may not speak to you of marriage; and it is necessary to my position that I wed." "_She_ is of your own rank, therefore you have wooed her?" "And of my own faith. Difference in rank may be overcome; in faith, never." "Oh that the time had come when God's children shall be all of one mind!" she uttered; "when the same mode of worship, and that a pure one, shall animate us all. In the later ages, this peace may be upon the earth." "Would to the saints that it were now, Gina; or that you and I had never met."