been in
keeping with my assumed character.

It was a little past the middle of November, when a circumstance
occurred that gave impetus to my plans, and hurried them to full
fruition. The days were growing chilly and sad even in Naples--yachting
excursions were over, and I was beginning to organize a few dinners and
balls for the approaching winter season, when one afternoon Ferrari
entered my room unannounced and threw himself into the nearest chair
with an impatient exclamation, and a vexed expression of countenance.

"What is the matter?" I asked, carelessly, as I caught a furtive glance
of his eyes. "Anything financial? Pray draw upon me! I will be a most
accommodating banker!"

He smiled uneasily though gratefully.

"Thanks, conte--but it is nothing of that sort--it is--gran Dio! what
an unlucky wretch I am!"

"I hope," and here I put on an expression of the deepest anxiety, "I
hope the pretty contessa has not played you false? she has refused to
marry you?"

He laughed with a disdainful triumph in his laughter.

"Oh, as far as that goes there is no danger! She dares not play me
false."

"DARES not! That is rather a strong expression, my friend!" And I
stroked my beard and looked at him steadily. He himself seemed to think
he had spoken too openly and hastily--for he reddened as he said with a
little embarrassment:

"Well, I did not mean that exactly--of course she is perfectly free to
do as she likes--but she cannot, I think, refuse me after showing me so
much encouragement."

I waved my hand with an airy gesture of amicable agreement.

"Certainly not," I said, "unless she be an arrant coquette and
therefore a worthless woman, and you, who know so well her intrinsic
goodness and purity, have no reason to fear. But, if not love or money,
what is it that troubles you? It must be serious, to judge from your
face."

He played absently with a ring I had given him, turning it round and
round upon his finger many times before replying.

"Well, the fact is," he said at last, "I am compelled to go away--to
leave Naples for a time."

My heart gave an expectant throb of satisfaction. Going away!--leaving
Naples!--turning away from the field of battle and allowing me to gain
the victory! Fortune surely favored me. But I answered with feigned
concern:

"Going away! Surely you cannot mean it. Why?--what for? and where?"

"An uncle of mine is dying in Rome," he answered, crossly. "He has made
me his heir,