r fancy deduced from her refusal to marry. She was happy.
Some day, the man she loved would know that she had faced the world for
him, rather than be bound to any one else, and he would love her all the
more dearly for having risked so much. She had never been so happy
before. Only, now and then, when she thought of Zorzi's hurt, she felt a
sharp thrill of pain run through her.

All day the tide of joy was high in her heart. Towards evening, she sent
Nella over to the glass-house to see how Zorzi was doing, and as soon as
the woman was gone she stood at the open window, behind her flowers, to
watch her go in, Pasquale would look out, the door would be open for a
moment, she would be a little nearer.

Even in that small anticipation she was not disappointed. It was a new
joy to be able to look from her window into the dark entry that led to
the place where Zorzi was. To-morrow, or the next day, he would perhaps
come to the door, helped by Pasquale, but to-morrow morning she would go
and see him, come what might. She was not afraid of her brother
Giovanni, and it might be long before her father came back. Till then,
at all events, she would do what she thought right, no matter how Nella
might be scandalised.

Nella came back, and said that Zorzi was better, that he had slept all
the afternoon and now had very little pain, and he was not in any
anxiety about the furnace, for Pasquale had kept the fire burning
properly all day. Zorzi had begged Nella to deliver a message of thanks.

"Try and remember just what he told you," said Marietta.

"There was nothing especial," answered Nella with exasperating
indifference. "He said that I was to thank you very much. Something like
that--nothing else."

"I am sure that those were not his words. Why did you forget them?"

"If it had been an account of money spent, I should remember it
exactly," answered Nella. "A pennyworth of thread, beeswax a farthing,
so much for needles; I should forget nothing. But when a man says 'I
thank you,' what is there to remember? But you are never satisfied!
Nella may work her hands to the bone for you, Nella may run errands for
you till she is lame, you are never pleased with what Nella does! It is
always the same."

She tossed her brown head to show that she was offended. But Marietta
laughed softly and patted the little woman's cheek affectionately.

"You are a dear little old angel," she said.

Nella was pacified.

CHAPTER XI