Then, wrapping herself closely in the soft folds of her gray mantle,
falling Madonna-wise from her head and shrouding her figure, she glided
for the last time over the _ponte_ and down past the sleeping homes of
Murano; for it was yet early for matins, and she would have the Madonna
all to herself as she knelt with her heart full of tenderness for the
dear life this day should merge in that other which beckoned her with
joyous anticipation--yet stilled to serenity by the golden glory and
promise of the dawn, and the beautiful, self-sacrificing, upholding
faith of the great-hearted Girolamo.

He had followed her and folded her passionately to his heart, as she
crossed the threshold of their home on her way to San Donato. "I must be
first," he said, "to bless thee on thy bridal day. Fret thee not, for
thou art bidden to a mission, since thou goest forth from the people to
the highest circle of the nobles. And love alone hath bidden and drawn
thee. Forget it not, Marina! So shall a blessing go with thee and rest
upon thee!"

She had brought a gift to the Madonna of San Donato--an exquisite altar
lamp of ivory and silver--and from the flowers which she had laid upon
the altar while she knelt in prayer, she gathered some to scatter over
the grave of the tiny Zuane.

When Marina returned slowly through the little square, Murano was awake;
the painted sails of the fishing-boats were tacking in the breeze, the
activities of the simple homes had commenced, women with their
water-jugs were chatting round the well, detaining little ones clinging
to the fringes of the tawny mantles which hung below their waists; a few
stopped her with greetings; here and there a child ran to her
shyly--their mothers, from the low cottage doorways, calling to them