ight easily move me. He did. I am
ashamed of it. Look at the blood in my cheeks! That tells the truth, at
all events. I am utterly ashamed. I would give my right hand to have not
spoken those words! I would almost give my life to undo yesterday if it
could be undone--and undo it I will, so far as I can. I will tell San
Miniato what I think of myself, and then I will tell him what I think of
him, and that will be enough. Do you understand me? I am in earnest."

The Marchesa had listened to Beatrice's long speech with open eyes,
surprised at the girl's keenness and at her determined manner. Not that
the latter was new in her experience, but it was the first time that
their two wills had been directly opposed in a matter of great
importance. The Marchesa was a very indolent person, but somewhere in
her nature there lay hidden a small store of determination which had
hardly ever expressed itself clearly in her life. Now, however, she felt
that much was at stake. For many reasons San Miniato was precisely the
son-in-law she desired. He would give Beatrice an ancient and
honourable name, a leading position in any Italian society he chose to
frequent, whether in the north or the south, and he was a man of the
world at all points. The last consideration had much weight with the
Marchesa who, in spite of her title and fortune had seen very little of
the men of the great world, and admired them accordingly. Therefore when
Beatrice said she would not marry him, her mother made up her mind that
she should, and the struggle commenced.

"Beatrice, my angel," she began, "you are mistaken in yourself and in
San Miniato. I am quite unable to go through all the details as you have
done. I only say that you are mistaken."

Beatrice's lip curled a little and she slowly shook her head.

"I am not mistaken, mamma," she answered. "I am quite right, and you
know it. Can you deny that what I say is true? Can you say that you did
not arrange with him to take me to Tragara, and to let him speak to me
himself?"

"It is far too much trouble to deny anything, my dear child. But all
that may be quite true, and yet he may love you as sincerely as he can
love any one. I do not suppose you expect a man of his sense and
education to roll himself at your feet and tear his hair and his clothes
as they do on the stage."

"A man need not do that to show that he is in earnest, and besides he--"

"That is not the question," interrupted the Marchesa. "Th