n but conviction and infamy.

Whatever Bosio's true relations with Matilde had been in the course of
the last ten years, he had at least loved her faithfully, with the
complete devotion of a man who not only loves a woman, but is morally
dominated by her in all the circumstances of life. He had not the
character which seeks ideals, and he asked for none.

Matilde's beauty and conversation had sufficed him, for in his opinion
he had never known any one to be compared with her; and on her side she
had been strong enough to make a slave of him from the first. To the
extent of his weak character and considerable physical courage, there
was no sacrifice which Bosio would not have been ready to make for her,
and few dangers which he would not at least have attempted to face for
her sake.

But where all moral sense of right and all natural action of conscience
were gone, there remained in the man an inheritance of traditional
feeling, which even Matilde's influence could not make him wittingly
violate any further,--a remnant of honour, a thread, as it were, by
which his soul was still held above the level of total destruction.
There was nothing, perhaps, involving himself alone, which he would have
refused to do for Matilde's sake, under the pressure of her strong will.
But what she required of him now was more than that, and worse. After a
night of thought, he still felt that he could not do it.

Of course, there was the possibility that Veronica herself might
absolutely refuse to marry him, and thus save his weakness from the
necessity of trying to be strong. But Bosio thought this improbable.

The fatherless and motherless girl had been purposely kept from all
outside influences by Gregorio and Matilde, in order that they might
control her disposition for their own interests. She had been taught to
expect that in due time they would select a husband for her from the men
who might offer themselves, and that it would be more or less her duty
to accept their decision, as being really the best for her own
happiness. They had hindered her from forming friendships with girls of
her own age, and altogether from acquaintanceship with young married
women, excepting Bianca Corleone, who had been her friend in the
convent. In society, when she went with them, men were introduced to her
very rarely. Bosio had been present once or twice on such occasions, and
he remembered having seen her with Gianluca. It had been very much as
Taq