"No, no," answered Manucci, "I will not have it said, that your love for this dear child made you linger on here when you had other objects before you. As to her fate, fear not for that. I see what you dread; but there you are misled. I am very poor, it is true; but I have made myself poorer than I am, in order that she may be richer when the moment comes. In that cabinet are two thousand golden ducats, saved from my small means by the utmost parsimony. That will be sufficient, and more than sufficient, till she is under the protection of your mother. She must not go back to her native land altogether as a beggar; and she must hire one or more maidens to attend upon her by the way. Neither must she, my good lord, be dependent upon you; for that might give occasion for busy tongues to bruit about rash suspicions. Let her pay her own servants; let her defray her own expenses; there will be still enough and to spare. Now go and speak with her. I will wait you here."
The young earl rose with a faint smile, and moved towards the door; but ere he reached it he turned, and approaching the old man, grasped his hand, saying, "Many, very many thanks for all your confidence; but yet there is one more boon which I must ask, and I shall not be satisfied unless you grant it. My friend, Sir John Hume, whom you already know well, the affianced husband of my young sister Beatrice, will remain here for a fortnight longer. Should need be, Julia must trust in him, till I can reach her. He is the soul of honour, and kindly and gentle in feeling. But I must also leave a servant here, who shall attend every day at your house, and if events should require it, will either stay to assist his master's promised bride or seek and find me, with wit and diligence such as few can show. His character is a very mixed one, with faults and virtues in excess; but he has proved his devotion to me many a time, and of his honesty I am well assured. Say you agree to this! Then I shall go in peace."
And leaving him for the time, the young earl hurried away towards the room whither he had been first conducted. His first steps along the passage were eager and impetuous. It seemed as if he could not too soon hear the words which were to decide his fate; but as he approached the door, his feet relaxed their speed; and he paused thoughtfully, with his hand lifted towards the lock. What was it that made him hesitate? Let his own words answer. "No, no, studied speech is vain," he said at length. "I will pour my heart into hers, and if the feelings within it but find voice, no eloquence can match them."