200 FATHER AND CHILD. 



Lucciole, a crimson stain on the bleached trunk of the olive, 

 showed, even in that place of shade and hour of darkness, that 

 a deed of murder had been done. 



Poor Bianca ! Then did thy simple superstition seem to 

 have met with terrible fulfilment. The Lucciole had come to 

 thee indeed as messengers of death ; but in their radiant guise 

 they were the more fitting representatives of ministers of 

 mercy, sent, perhaps, in good time, to rescue thee from 



danger and from sin. 



****** 



Early next morning the old vine-dresser was up, and 

 dressed, ready for departure. He wondered why Bianca was 

 not stirring too ; " but, poor thing ! " thought he, " she shall 

 rest as long as may be." 



Jacopo, while this was passing through his mind, busied 

 himself in a few remaining preparations even got ready their 

 simple breakfast, ever and anon, in the midst of his occupa- 

 tion, going to listen at his daughter's chamber door. " How 

 soundly she is sleeping," whispered he ; " but hark ! there's 

 the Annunciata striking six ; we're to be on board by seven ; 

 so wake her I must." 



He tapped gently louder more loudly. " Bianca ! Bianca ! 

 wilt thou never awake ?" 



A death-like silence ensued, and something of chilling 

 augury smote upon the old man's heart, even before he 

 opened the door, and saw that the room was tenantless the 

 bed unruffled. 



Then he ran wildly forth calling as wildly on his child. 

 The early chirp of the birds in the garden and the olive grove 

 was his sole response. 



But he soon found her, and he (poor miserable old man !) 

 was soon found with her, sitting under the half-dead olive 

 tree; her head supported on his knees, and he smiling in 

 childish vacuity, as he tried to disengage her luxuriant hair 

 from the clots of blood which confined it. 



