home was such that whenever it was possible, he would snatch if it
were but half a day to visit them. Gradually, and to him it seemed
almost strangely, the plaything child changed into the graceful girl,
and then again into the lovely woman; and dearer than ever became his
boyhood's home, though years had snatched away so many of its beloved
inmates, that, at the period of our story, its sole occupants were
Marie and her father.

Had her mother lived, perchance Marie had never been exposed to the
dangers of an introduction to the world. Betrothed, in the secret
hearts of not only her own parents, but of Ferdinand's mother, to her
cousin, if she lived to attain sufficient age, Miriam would not have
thought it so impossible as Manuel did, that the affections of his
child might be sought for by, and given to another, if she mingled
with the world; she would at least have waited till she was
Ferdinand's wedded wife, and then sent her forth secure. But such
subtle fears and feelings are peculiarly _woman's_; not the tenderest,
most devoted father, could of himself have either thought of, or
understood them. He might perhaps have owned their justice had they
been presented to him by the affectionate warnings of an almost
idolized wife; but that voice was hushed, her sweet counsels buried
in the grave; and the fond, proud father, only thought of his child's
brilliant beauty, and how she would be admired and beloved, could she
be but generally known. And so, for her sake, he actually did violence
to his own love for the quiet retirement of the vale, and bore her to
the care of Donna Emilie de Castro; seeing nothing, feeling nothing,
but the admiration she excited, and that she was indeed the loveliest
there. One wish he had, and that was, that his nephew could have been
there likewise; but being engaged at that time on some important
private business for the Queen, Ferdinand did not even know that his