iscovered the colour. But there is the white
glass, which is so like mine, though it is better. That may have been an
accident too. Or the boy may have tried an experiment upon mine by
adding something to it."

"It is at least sure that the book has not been touched, and that is the
main thing. You admit that he is quite innocent, do you not? Quite,
quite innocent?"

"Yes, I do. It would be very unjust not to admit it."

Marietta drew a long breath of relief, for she had scarcely hoped to
accomplish so much in so short a time. The rest would follow, she felt
sure.

"I would give a great deal to see Zorzi at once," said her father, at
last, as he replaced the manuscript in the box and shut the lid.

"Not half as much as I would!" Marietta almost laughed, as she spoke.
"Father," she added gently, and resting one hand upon his shoulder, "I
have given you back your book, I have given you back the innocent man
you trusted, instead of the villain invented by my brother. What will
you give me?"

She smiled and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. He shook his head
a little, and would not answer.

"Would it be so hard to say that you ask another year's time before the
marriage? And then, you know, you could ask it again, and they would
soon be tired of waiting and would break it off themselves."

"Do not suggest such woman's tricks to me," answered her father; but he
could not help smiling.

"Oh, you may find a better way," Marietta said. "But that would be so
easy, would it not? Your daughter is so young--her health is somewhat
delicate--"

She was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Pasquale entered.

"The Signor Giovanni is without, sir," said the porter. "He desires to
take leave of you, as he is returning to his own house to-day."

"Let him come in," said Beroviero, his face darkening all at once.

CHAPTER XXI

Giovanni entered the laboratory confidently, not even knowing that
Marietta was with her father, and not suspecting that he could have
anything to fear from her.

"I have come to take my leave of you, sir," he began, going towards his
father at once.

He did not see the broken jar, which was at some distance from the door.

"Before you go," said Beroviero coldly, "pray look at this."

Giovanni saw the box on the table, but did not understand, as he had
never seen it before. His father again took the key from his neck and
opened the casket.

"This is Paolo Godi's manuscript," he