ou excuse me for calling without an invitation, signorina?" he
said. "But, truth to tell, I saw something this evening which compelled
me."

She looked up at him with a fast-beating heart, for there was something
in his voice which struck her as strange.

"You wonder what it was," he went on. "I will tell you. I met Mr.
Herbert Briarfield a little while ago."

In spite of herself she felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she
retained her self-control.

"Surely there is nothing so wonderful in that," she said.

"No, not in seeing him; the wonder was in what I read in his face."

At this she was silent, while Ricordo went on:

"Yes, I saw love, hope, there--nay, more than hope, I saw what looked
like conquest, certainty. Am I right, signorina?"

Again she felt the kind of mastery which his presence always exercised
over her; but she determined not to yield to it. Rather, she was almost
angry with him.

"I am at a loss to know why you should ask me what you saw in his face,"
she said.

"Because what I saw depends on you," he answered quietly.

"And what then, signore?"

"I know that, if I saw truly, you have spoken words of hope. I know that
he believes you have given him reason to think himself a victor. That is
why, signorina."

"Still, I can scarcely understand why such a matter can interest you,
signore."

"No? That is why I came, signorina. When I saw his face wreathed with
smiles; when I looked into his eyes, lit up with the thought of victory;
when I heard his voice ringing with gladness, it revealed something to
me. Ah, you have not guessed it. Who am I--a poor alien--that I should
think such thoughts? But no man is master of his heart, Miss
Castlemaine. For if I saw truly, and he is lifted into heaven, then I am
hurled into hell. No, you do not think of this. Why should you? You
regarded me as a mild-mannered foreigner, who had come to live in your
beautiful neighbourhood. But did you think, when I told you that I
wanted to stay here, that it was because of your scenery, your climate?
You did not think that the fires of love could burn in my heart. Why
should you? I dared not tell you. But your hills and dales are nothing
to me; your healthful climate does not affect me; it was you--you who
are everything. At first I tried to believe there was no danger. I
laughed at myself for thinking of it; but when I saw the young squire's
face, I could laugh no longer. I knew then that he had told you that