y of not
being herself betrayed and of not betraying the man she loved. She had
been accustomed to come to her confessor for counsel, and she now came to
him with her troubles and craved sympathy for them, in the knowledge that
Padre Filippo could never know the name of the man who had disturbed her
peace.

But the monk understood well enough, and his kind heart comprehended hers
and felt for her.

"My daughter," he said at last, when she seemed to have grown more calm,
"it would be an inestimable advantage if this man could go away for a
time, but that is probably not to be expected. Meanwhile, you must not
listen to him if he speaks--"

"It is not that," interrupted Corona--"it is not that. He never speaks of
love. Oh, I really believe he does not love me at all!" But in her heart
she felt that he must love her; and her hand, as it lay upon the hard
wood of the confessional, seemed still to feel his trembling arm.

"That is so much the better, my child," said the monk, quietly. "For if
he does not love you, your temptations will not grow stronger."

"And yet, perhaps--he may--" murmured Corona, feeling that it would be
wrong even to conceal her faintest suspicions at such a time.

"Let there be no perhaps," answered Padre Filippo, almost sternly. "Let
it never enter your mind that he might love you. Think that even from the
worldly point there is small dignity in a woman who exhibits love for a
man who has never mentioned love to her. You have no reason to suppose
you are loved save that you desire to be. Let there be no perhaps."

The monk's keen insight into character had given him an unexpected weapon
in Corona's defence. He knew how of all things a proud woman hates to
know that where she has placed her heart there is no response, and that
if she fails to awaken an affection akin to her own, what has been love
may be turned to loathing, or at least to indifference. The strong
character of the Duchessa d'Astrardente responded to his touch as he
expected. Her tears ceased to flow, and her scorn rose haughtily against
herself.

"It is true. I am despicable," she said, suddenly. "You have shown me
myself. There shall be no perhaps. I loathe myself for thinking of it.
Pray for me, lest I fall so low again."

A few minutes later Corona left the confessional and went and kneeled in
the body of the church to collect her thoughts. She was in a very
different frame of mind from that in which she had left home an h