d spoke without doubt or fear, as men do when
they have been told at last that they are loved; and her occasional
glance and the pressure of her hand were all he wanted in return. He
said everything for her, which he wished to hear her say, and it seemed
to him that she spoke the words by his lips. They would be happy
together always, happy beyond volumes of words to say, beyond thought to
think, beyond imagination to imagine. Quick plans for the future, near
and far, flashed into words that were pictures, and the pictures showed
him a visible earthly paradise, in which they two should live always, in
which he should always be speaking as he was speaking now, and she
listening, as she now listened.

He forgot the time, and forgot to glance at the open door of the
boudoir, but at last Cecilia started, and drew back her hand from his,
and blushed as she raised her head from the back of the sofa. Her mother
was standing in the doorway watching, and hearing, an expression of rapt
delight on her face, not daring to move forwards or backwards, lest she
should interrupt the scene.

Cecilia started, and Guido, following the direction of her eyes, saw the
Countess, and felt that small touch of disappointment which a man feels
when the woman he is addressing in passionate language is less
absent-minded than he is. He rose to his feet instantly, and went
forwards, as the Countess came towards him.

"My dear lady," he said, "Cecilia has consented to be my wife."

Cecilia did not afterwards remember precisely what happened next, for
the room swam with her as she left her seat, and she steadied herself
against a chair, and saw nothing for a moment; but presently she found
herself in her mother's arms, which pressed her very hard, and her
mother was kissing her again and again, and was saying incoherent
things, and was on the point of crying. Guido stood a few steps away,
apparently seeing nothing, but looking the picture of happiness, and
very busy with his cigarette case, of which he seemed to think the
fastening must be out of order, for he opened it and shut it again
several times and tried it in every way.

Then Cecilia was quite aware of outward things again, and she kissed her
mother once or twice.

"Let me go, mother dear," she whispered desperately. "I want to be
alone--do let me go!"

She slipped away, pale and trembling, and had disappeared almost before
Guido was aware that she was going towards the door. She heard