e.
You must surely understand that. It is very easy to understand."

He made as though he would go up the ladder to his little platform and
continue his work. But she stopped him.

"What is the use of hurting your eyes?" she asked. "It is late, and the
light is bad. Besides, I am not so sure that I understand what you mean,
though you say that it is so easy. We have never talked about it much."

He laid his palette and brushes upon a ragged straw chair and sat down
upon another, not far from her. There was no other furniture in the
great vaulted hall, and the brick pavement was bare, and splashed in
many places with white plaster. Fresco-painting can only be done upon
stucco just laid on, while it is still moist, and a mason came early
every day and prepared as much of the wall as Reanda could cover before
night. If he did not paint over the whole surface, the remainder was
chipped away and freshly laid over on the following morning.

The evening light already reddened the tall western windows, for it was
autumn, and the days were shortening quickly. Reanda knew that he could
not do much more, and sat down, to answer Francesca's question, if he
could.

"I am not a gentleman, as you understand the word," he said slowly. "And
yet I am certainly not of the class to which my father belonged. My
position is not defined. I could not marry a woman of your class, and I
should not care to marry one of any other. That is all. Is it not
clear?"

"Yes," answered Francesca. "It is clear enough. But--"

She checked herself, and he looked into her face, expecting her to
continue. But she said nothing more.

"You were going to find an objection to what I said," he observed.

"No; I was not. I will say it, for you will understand me. What you tell
me is true enough, and I am sorry that it should be so. Is it not to
some extent my fault?"

"Your fault?" cried Reanda, leaning forward and looking into her eyes.
"How? I do not understand."

"I blame myself," answered Francesca, quietly. "I have kept you out of
the world, perhaps, and in many ways. Here you live, day after day, as
though nothing else existed for you. In the morning, long before I am
awake, you come down your staircase through that door, and go up that
ladder, and work, and work, and work, all day long, until it is dark, as
you have worked to-day, and yesterday, and for months. And when you
might and should be out of doors, or associating with other people, as
j