The Amulet

"Heavens!" exclaimed Simon Turchi, "I hear Miss Van de Werve."

"For the love of God, not a word in her presence," said Mr. Van de Werve.

Mary entered the room, looking around anxiously. She had seen the officers

at the door, and she seemed to inquire of her father the cause of their

presence.

She remarked her father's pallor and embarrassment. Simon Turchi looked

down, as if in despair. Deodati covered his face with his hands.

A cry of anguish escaped the young girl, and she glanced in turns at her

father, Deodati, Turchi, and the bailiff; but they each seemed anxious to

avoid her eye.

"Go to your room, Mary," said Mr. Van de Werve.

"Give me this proof of affection. Ask nothing."

The young girl, struck by these evidences of some misfortune, ran to her

father and exclaimed, joining her hands: "Speak, father, and tell me what has happened. Leave me not in this

terrible suspense. Tell me that they have not found Geronimo's dead body.

Alas! he is dead! Is it not so?"

Throwing her arms around her father's neck, she wept bitterly, conjuring

him to tell her the cause of their emotion.

Without giving her any explanation, Mr. Van de Werve attempted to lead his

daughter out of the room; but she, like one crazed by grief, released her

hand from her father's, fell upon her knees before Turchi, and exclaimed: "By the love you bore him, signor, take pity on me and tell me what has

happened to him. Let me not leave the room under the frightful conviction

that he is dead!"

Turchi remained silent, gazing upon her with an expression of profound

sadness.

"You, too, are implacable, inexorable!" she said, rising.

"But you, at least--his uncle, his father--will be more merciful."

She ran to the weeping merchant, gently forced his hands from his face,

and conjured him, in piteous accents, to give her some information which

would relieve the torturing suspense.

The old Deodati, still weeping, threw his arms around her neck, and

murmured: "God bless you, my child, for your love. Let us pray for him!"

Mr. Van de Werve had left the room to call Petronilla. He returned with

her, and said to his daughter: "Mary, go with your duenna. You must not remain here longer."

The young girl seemed not to hear her father's words, for she was

immovable as if petrified by grief.

He added, in an impatient, severe tone: "Mary, leave the room. I wish it; I command it. Obey me."