“Truly,” said Mary, “his is a generous heart.  Poor Simon!  I have sometimes been unjust to him; but it is in affliction that we learn who are our true friends.  For the rest of my life I will respect and esteem him.”

“He will meet me here, presently,” replied Deodati.  “He may have some particular communication to make to me, for he seemed to desire a private conversation.  The arrival of some merchants of his acquaintance prevented him from speaking to me.  I almost quarrelled with Signor Turchi.”

“Quarrelled!” said Mr. Van de Werve, in astonishment.

“Yes; but it was to his praise, at least.  He told me that it was his intention to offer a large reward to the first person who would bring certain tidings of Geronimo.”

“How grateful I am for his generous friendship!” said Mary.

“Of course,” continued the old man, “I would not permit it.  Whilst thanking him for his kindness, I told him that I would offer the reward myself.  I left Signor Turchi in company with the merchants, and went to the town-hall for the purpose; but when I arrived there, I found a decree of the burgomaster already issued, promising three hundred florins for any information of Geronimo.[21] I spoke with the bailiff at noon.  He told me that, notwithstanding the most active search, no trace had yet been discovered of Bufferio’s wife, nor of his companions.  All of them must have left the country immediately after the ruffian’s death.  But this afternoon the bailiff expects to hear the result of several important researches ordered by him this morning.  If he receives any communication of consequence he will come himself to impart it to us.  I hear the clock strike five.  Signor Turchi will soon be here.”

During this explanation Mary remained immovable—­her eyes cast down.  She had probably heard only confusedly what had just been said, for her thoughts were evidently far away.

It was only when the servant threw open the door and announced Signor Turchi that the young girl, aroused from her reverie, rose hastily and went eagerly to meet him, as though she expected him to be the bearer of important news.

Mr. Van de Werve and Deodati also met him at the door; Mary involuntarily took both his hands in hers, and all three regarded him inquiringly.

“Alas! my friends, I know nothing,” said Turchi, in a voice which seemed but the echo of a bruised and broken heart.  “All my efforts have proved unsuccessful.  I have vowed before God to spare no expense or trouble in order to discover what has become of my unfortunate friend; but so far impenetrable darkness covers the terrible secret.  What shall we do?  Let us hope that the bailiff and his officers may be more fortunate than myself, who have only my anxiety and affection to guide me.”

The words of Simon Turchi effaced the last lingering hope from Mary’s heart, and she seated herself, exhausted from previous emotion.