onal ambition. But if
I could go to him sanctioned by you; if I could say, 'Your daughter
overlooks what the father might deem an obstacle,--she has consented
to accept my hand of her own free choice, she unites her happiness,
and blends her prayers with mine,'--then, indeed, I could not fail of
success; and Italy would pardon my errors, and bless your name.
Ah, Signorina, do not think of me save as an instrument towards the
fulfilment of duties so high and sacred! think but of your ancestors,
your father, your native land, and reject not the proud occasion to
prove how you revere them all!"

Violante's heart was touched at the right chord. Her head rose, the
colour came back to her pale cheek, she turned the glorious beauty of
her countenance towards the wily tempter. She was about to answer and to
seal her fate, when at that instant Harley's voice was heard at a little
distance, and Nero came bounding towards her, and thrust himself, with
rough familiarity, between her and Peschiera. The count drew back, and
Violante, whose eyes were still fixed on his face, started at the change
that passed there. One quick gleam of rage sufficed in an instant to
light up the sinister secrets of his nature,--it was the face of the
baffled gladiator. He had time but for few words.

"I must not be seen here," he muttered; "but to-morrow, in these
gardens, about this hour. I implore you, for the sake of your
father,--his hopes, fortunes, his very life,--to guard the secret of
this interview,--to meet me again. Adieu!"

He vanished amidst the trees, and was gone,--noiselessly, mysteriously,
as he had come.

CHAPTER IX.

The last words of Peschiera were still ringing in Violante's ears when
Harley appeared in sight, and the sound of his voice dispelled the vague
and dreamy stupor which had crept over her senses. At that voice there
returned the consciousness of a mighty loss, the sting of an intolerable
anguish. To meet Harley there, and thus, seemed impossible. She turned
abruptly away, and hurried towards the horse. Harley called to her by
name, but she would not answer, and only quickened her steps. He paused
a moment in surprise, and then hastened after her.

"Under what strange taboo am I placed?" said he, gayly, as he laid his
hand on her shrinking arm. "I inquire for Helen,--she is ill, and cannot
see me. I come to sun myself in your presence, and you fly me as if gods
and men had set their mark on my brow. Child! chil