Infirmity itself seemed conquered in the rejoicing thankfulness with which Henriquez regarded this fulfilment of his wishes.  He appeared actually to regain strength and energy; his alarming fainting fits had not recurred since his nephew’s visit, and Marie hoped he would be spared her longer than he believed.  He never recurred to her confession, but lavished on her, if possible, yet more endearing love, and constantly alluded to the intense happiness which her consent to be her cousin’s bride had given him.  Once he left the vale, despite his precarious health, taking with him his old retainer, Reuben, and returned, laden with the richest gems and costliest silks, to adorn his child, on her bridal day, as befitted the bride of Ferdinand.

Time passed:  the day specified by Ferdinand rapidly approached.  He was there to meet it—­and not alone.  Thoughtful of his Marie’s feeling, he had resolved that she should not stand beside the altar without one female friend; and he brought one, the sight of whom awakened associations with such overpowering strength, that Marie could only throw herself upon her bosom, almost convulsed with tears.  It was Donna Emelie de Castro, at whose house she had joined the world; but her emotion, supposed natural to the agitating ceremony impending, and her father’s precarious health, happily for her, passed without further notice than sympathy and love.

Henriquez, for once, was indifferent alike to the agitation of Marie, or the presence of Ferdinand.  His glance was fixed on one of a little group, all of whom, with the exception of this individual, were familiar to his home and heart.  He was clothed as a monk; but his cowl was thrown back, and his gaze so fixed on Marie that she blushed beneath it, and turned away.

“Do not turn from me, my child,” he said; and Henriquez started at the voice, it was so fraught with memories of the departed.  “Stranger as I must be, save in name, to thee—­thou art none such to me.  I seem to feel thy mother once again before me—­and never was sister more beloved!—­Manuel, hast thou, indeed, forgotten Julien?”

Almost ere he ceased to speak, the long separated relatives were clasped in each, other’s arms.  The five-and-twenty years, which had changed the prime of manhood into advancing age, and blanched the hair of each, had had no power to decrease the strong ties of kindred, so powerful in their secret race.  The agitation and excitement of Henriquez was so excessive, not only then, but during the few days intervening before the celebration of the bridal, that Marie, in spite of the near approach of the dreaded day, could only think of him.