ed with the choking sob she kept down so
bravely. There is something half divine in the grief of some women.

"Dear child," said her mother very gently, "there is nothing to cry
over. Beatrice carissima, try and control yourself. It will soon pass--"

"It will soon pass--yes," answered the young girl, bringing out the
words with a great effort. During fully two minutes more she pressed her
eyes with all her might. Then she rose suddenly to her feet, and her
face was almost calm again.

"I will marry him, since what I never meant for a promise really is one
and has seemed so to you and to him. But if I am a faithless wife to
him, I will lay all my sins at your door."

"Beatrice!" cried the Marchesa, in real horror this time. She crossed
herself.

"I am young--shall I not love?" asked the young girl defiantly.

"Dearest child, for the love of Heaven do not talk so--"

"No--I will not. I will never say it again--and you will not forget it."

She turned to leave the terrace and met San Miniato face to face.

"Good morning," she said coldly, and passed him.

"Of course you have telegraphed the news of the engagement to your
sister?" said the Marchesa as soon as she saw him, and making a sign to
intimate that he must answer in the affirmative.

"Of course--and to all my best friends," he replied promptly with a
ready smile. Beatrice heard his answer just as she passed through the
door, but she did not turn her head. She guessed that her mother had
asked the question in haste in order that San Miniato might say
something which should definitely prove to Beatrice that he considered
himself betrothed. Yesterday she would have believed his answer. To-day
she believed nothing he said. She went to her room and bathed her eyes
in cold water and sat down for a moment before her glass and looked at
herself thoughtfully. There she was, the same Beatrice she saw in the
mirror every day, the same clear brown eyes, the same soft brown hair,
the same broad, crayon-like eyebrows, the same free pose of the head.
But there was something different in the face, which she did not
recognise. There was something defiant in the eyes, and hard about the
mouth, which was new to her and did not altogether please her, though
she could not change it. She combed the little ringlets on her forehead
and dabbed a little scent upon her temples to cool them, and then she
rose quickly and went out. A thought had struck her and she at once put
int