"Ay, father, so would he; but I have told him that thou and I are not
less proud than those of his own house, and without their consent it may
not be."

"Nay, I care not for their house--only for thy happiness; he shall wed
thee, and my home is thine; I have enough for thee and him; he shall not
make thee suffer."

They were close together now, father and daughter--a beautiful group in
the yellow lamplight against the dark background that surrounded them
like an impassible fate; her face was a study of happiness, tenderness,
suffering, and strength; her father wrapped her close in his protecting
arms, and thus she could bear everything. They were silent for a while:
he trying to accept the revelation in its strangeness, she planning how
she should make him understand.

"I am glad thou knowest it, dear father," she said at length, very
softly. "I have thy love--I can bear everything."

"Nay, thou shalt have nothing to bear! Thou shalt be Lady of the
Giustiniani--what means the portrait else?"

"It is like Marco again!" she cried, with a little pleased laugh. "He
said--because I would make him no promise until all consented--that he
would take me thus before all the world, and that should make them
consent."

"Nay, let him come out from his house and take thee! I also, of the
people, bear an ancient name, and I have kept it honorable. Pietro, the