old you all this? She
desires our marriage? She knows what you are asking me?" I repeated
breathlessly.

"Most certainly! Shall I call her? She will tell you so herself."

"Do not speak to me for a moment, please."

I was an idiot, but I could not help it. I buried my head in the sofa
cushion, and sobbed. Everything seemed fighting against me, to make my
purpose more difficult.

I think that tears have a softening effect. I had steeled my heart
against my lover, and yet he conquered. I felt his strong arms around
me, and his lips were pressed against my wet cheeks. Oh! for strength to
thrust him from me--to deny my love, but I could not.

Why should I try to recall his words? Nay! if I could, I would not set
them down here! I felt every fiber of my nature glowing with delight as
I listened; every chord seemed quivering with heart-stirring music. I
had given up all idea of resistance. A strange drowsy peace had stolen
in upon me. One of his arms was around my waist, and my hand was
imprisoned in his. So we sat, and the moments became golden.

Interruption came at last. The door opened, and Lady St. Maurice
entered. My lover rose at once, still holding my hand.

"Mother," he said, "Margharita has made me very happy. Will you speak to
her?"

She came to us, and bent over me, her face looking very soft and sweet
in the shaded light. In another moment she would have kissed me. I
sprang to my feet, pale with horror.

"No, no, it cannot be!" I cried. "I am not fit to be his wife--to be
anybody's wife! Lady St. Maurice, will you not tell him so for me? Let
me go away!"

She looked surprised at my agitation, but she little guessed its cause.
How was she to know anything of that little packet which seemed to be
burning a hole in my heart?

"No! I will not tell him that!" she said, smiling. "He loves you, and I
believe that you are worthy of his love. That is quite sufficient. I
shall be glad to have you for a daughter, Margharita."

Lord Lumley thanked her with a look, and took her hand. They stood
together on the hearthrug, and I was on the other side facing the
window. Suddenly my heart gave a great leap, and the color died out of
my face. Pressed against the dark pane I could see a pale, white face
watching us. It was the face of my uncle, Count di Marioni.

I stood swaying backward and forward for a moment, sick and dizzy with
the horror of it. My eyes grew dim, and a mist seemed to fill the room.
Then I felt