clandestine. He was perplexed and tormented by the doubt, whether or not
to express openly to Violante his apprehensions of the nature of the
danger to be apprehended. He had told her vaguely that it was for her sake
that he desired secrecy and concealment. But that might mean any thing;
what danger to himself would not menace her? Yet to say more was so
contrary to a man of his Italian notions and Machiavellian maxims! To say
to a young girl, "There is a man come over to England on purpose to woo
and win you. For Heaven's sake take care of him; he is diabolically
handsome; he never fails where he sets his heart,"--"Cospetto!" cried the
doctor, aloud, as these admonitions shaped themselves to speech in the
camera-obscura of his brain; "such a warning would have undone a Cornelia
while she was yet an innocent spinster." No, he resolved to say nothing to
Violante of the Count's intention, only to keep guard, and make himself
and Jackeymo all eyes and all ears.

The house Randal had selected pleased Riccabocca at first glance. It stood
alone, upon a little eminence; its upper windows commanded the high road.
It had been a school, and was surrounded by high walls, which contained a
garden and lawn sufficiently large for exercise. The garden doors were
thick, fortified by strong bolts, and had a little wicket lattice, shut
and opened at pleasure, from which Jackeymo could inspect all visitors
before he permitted them to enter.

An old female servant from the neighborhood was cautiously hired;
Riccabocca renounced his Italian name, and abjured his origin. He spoke
English sufficiently well to think he could pass as an Englishman. He
called himself Mr. Richmouth (a liberal translation of Riccabocca). He
bought a blunderbuss, two pair of pistols, and a huge house-dog. Thus
provided for, he allowed Jackeymo to write a line to Randal and
communicate his arrival.

Randal lost no time in calling. With his usual adaptability and his powers
of dissimulation he contrived easily to please Mrs. Riccabocca, and to
increase the good opinion the exile was disposed to form of him. He
engaged Violante in conversation on Italy and its poets. He promised to
buy her books. He began, though more distantly than he could have
desired--for her sweet stateliness awed him in spite of himself--the
preliminaries of courtship. He established himself at once as a familiar
guest, riding down daily in the dusk of evening, after the toils of
office, and