th my late husband's affairs. Most
unfortunately, Fabio made him one of the trustees of his fortune in
case of his death--it is exceedingly awkward for me that he should
occupy that position--it appears to give him some authority over my
actions. In reality he has none. He has no doubt exaggerated the number
of times I have written to him? it would be like his impertinence to do
so."

Though this last remark was addressed to me almost as a question, I let
it pass without response. I reverted to my original theme.

"What think you, then?" I said. "Will you remain here or will you
absent yourself for a few days?"

She rose from her chair and approaching me, knelt down at my side,
clasping her two little hands round my arm. "With your permission," she
returned, softly, "I will go to the convent where I was educated. It is
some eight or ten miles distant from here, and I think" (here she
counterfeited the most wonderful expression of ingenuous sweetness and
piety)--"I think I should like to make a 'RETREAT'--that is, devote
some time solely to the duties of religion before I enter upon a second
marriage. The dear nuns would be so glad to see me--and I am sure you
will not object? It will be a good preparation for my future."

I seized her caressing hands and held them hard, while I looked upon
her kneeling there like the white-robed figure of a praying saint.

"It will indeed!" I said in a harsh voice. "The best of all possible
preparations! We none of us know what may happen--we cannot tell
whether life or death awaits us--it is wise to prepare for either by
words of penitence and devotion! I admire this beautiful spirit in you,
carina! Go to the convent by all means! I shall find you there and will
visit you when the wrath and bitterness of our friend Ferrari have been
smoothed into silence and resignation. Yes--go to the convent, among
the good and pious nuns--and when you pray for yourself, pray for the
peace of your dead husband's soul--and--for me! Such prayers, unselfish
and earnest, uttered by pure lips like yours, fly swiftly to heaven!
And as for young Guido--have no fear--I promise you he shall offend you
no more!"

"Ah, you do not know him!" she murmured, lightly kissing my hands that
still held hers; "I fear he will give you a great deal of trouble."

"I shall at any rate know how to silence him," I said, releasing her as
I spoke, and watching her as she rose from her kneeling position and
stood before