ice, with an altered
voice. "Come!"

Violante approached, but still hesitatingly. "Not by union with your
brother?"

"You dread that so much then?"

"Dread it? No. Why should I dread what is in my power to reject. But if
you can really restore my father, and by nobler means, you may save me
for--"

Violante stopped abruptly; the marchesa's eyes sparkled.

"Save you for--ah! I can guess what you leave unsaid. But come, come!
more strangers, see; you shall tell me all at my own house. And if you
can make one sacrifice, why, I will save you all else. Come, or farewell
forever!"

Violante placed her hand in Beatrice's, with a frank confidence that
brought the accusing blood into the marchesa's cheek.

"We are women both," said Violante; "we descend from the same noble
House; we have knelt alike to the same Virgin Mother; why should I not
believe and trust you?"

"Why not?" muttered Beatrice, feebly; and she moved on, with her head
bowed on her breast, and all the pride of her step was gone.

They reached a carriage that stood by the angle of the road. Beatrice
spoke a word apart to the driver, who was an Italian, in the pay of the
count; the man nodded, and opened the carriage door. The ladies entered.
Beatrice pulled down the blinds; the man remounted his box, and drove on
rapidly. Beatrice, leaning back, groaned aloud. Violante drew nearer to
her side. "Are you in pain?" said she, with her tender, melodious voice;
"or can I serve you as you would serve me?"

"Child, give me your hand, and be silent while I look at you. Was I ever
so fair as this? Never! And what deeps--what deeps roll between her and
me!"

She said this as of some one absent, and again sank into silence; but
continued still to gaze on Violante, whose eyes, veiled by their long
fringes, drooped beneath the gaze.

Suddenly Beatrice started, exclaiming, "No, it shall not be!" and placed
her hand on the check-string.

"What shall not be?" asked Violante, surprised by the cry and the
action. Beatrice paused; her breast heaved visibly under her dress.

"Stay," she said slowly. "As you say, we are both women of the same
noble House; you would reject the suit of my brother, yet you have seen
him; his the form to please the eye, his the arts that allure the fancy.
He offers to you rank, wealth, your father's pardon and recall. If I
could remove the objections which your father entertains, prove that
the count has less wronged him than he deems,