tion that I planned the whole of the absurd business. This
is the case:--I found the girl on the beach: she follows him everywhere,
which is bad for her reputation, because in this climate people suspect,
positive reasons for that kind of female devotedness. So, to put an end
to it--really for her own sake, quite as much as anything else--am I a
monster of insensibility, Merthyr?--I made her swear an oath: one must be
a point above wild animals to feel that to be binding, however! I made
her swear to listen and remain there silent till I opened the door to set
her at liberty. She consented--gave her word solemnly. I calculated that
she might faint, and fixed her in an arm-chair. Was that cruel? Merthyr,
you have called me Austrian more than once; but, upon my honour, I wanted
her to get over her delusion comfortably. I thought she would have kept
the oath, I confess; she looked up like a child when she was making it.
You have heard the rest from Georgey. I must say the situation was rather
hard on Wilfrid. If he blames me it will be excuseable, though what I did
plan was to save him from a situation somewhat worse. So now you know the
whole, Merthyr. Commence your lecture. Make me a martyr to the sorrows of
Italy once more."

Merthyr took her wrist, feeling the quick pulse, and dropped it. She was
effectually humbled by this direct method of dealing with her secret
heart. After some commonplace remarks had passed, she herself urged him
to send out men in search for Emilia. Before he went, she murmured a soft
"Forgive me." The pressure of her fingers was replied to, but the words
were not spoken.

"There," she cried to Georgiana, "I have offended the only man for whose
esteem I care one particle! Devote yourself to your friends!"

"How? 'devote yourself!'" murmured Georgiana, astonished.

"Do you think I should have got into this hobble if I hadn't wished to
serve some one else? You must have seen that Merthyr has a sentimental
sort of fondness--call it passion--for this girl. She's his Italy in the
flesh. Is there a more civilized man in the world than Merthyr? So he
becomes fascinated by a savage. We all play the game of opposites--or
like to, and no woman in his class will ever catch him. I couldn't have
believed that he was touched by a girl, but for two or three recent
indications. You must have noticed that he has given up reading others,
and he objected the other day to a responsible office which would have
thr