e," she called back. "I desire you not
to do it."

As she was speaking, Carletto, who was following her as fast as his bent
legs would amble, called out:

"_Ma, eccolo! Ecco il Marchesino, signora!_"

She hurried on, her head bent, the letter in the pocket of her gown
seeming to scorch her fingers. Amaldi overtook her, just before she
reached the darsena. They murmured vague greetings. Both were very pale.
A trembling had seized Sophy. Everything grew dim before her in that
moment. Amaldi, seeing how it was with her, offered her his arm. She
took it from the sheer instinct of self-preservation. The ground seemed
falling from beneath her feet in slanting jerks.

"You are tired...." he said, speaking with an effort. "There is a seat
here ... among these ilex shrubs.... You must rest a moment."

Walking giddily along the unstable, sliding earth, she allowed him to
guide her to the old stone seat on the south terrace. The dark foliage
screened them from the house. Between them and the blue dazzle of the
lake was a low balustrade of stone. Amaldi helped her to the seat, and
then went and leaned upon this balustrade.

The faintness passed, and Sophy sat thinking feverishly how she must
act. The directness of her nature guided her. She drew the letter from
her pocket, and, rising, went towards Amaldi. He turned when he heard
her footstep. As he turned, she stopped where she was, holding out the
letter to him.

"Marchese," she said, "I had meant to leave this letter with your
mother. I was told you were in Milan. It--it is from--my husband....
Wait!" she cried almost imperiously, as she saw the recoil of his whole
figure. "You must listen--you must understand. He ... my husband ... has
been very ill. This ... this letter is an apology, Marchese--an apology
to you."

Amaldi bowed formally, and took the letter. His face was inscrutable. He
started to put the envelope unopened into his pocket.

Sophy, flushing deeply, murmured:

"Won't you even read it?"

Amaldi bowed again.

"There is no need," he said. "An apology offered in this manner"--his
tone was rather bitter--"I accept without reading."

Sophy stood silent; then her head went down a little.

"I ... I thank you," she whispered.

A quick change came over Amaldi's face; but she was looking down on the
flagged walk and did not see it.

"Do you go soon now?" he asked, his voice almost as low as hers.

"Yes ... on Wednesday."

"It will doubtless be long