he toils I shall die. Amanda,
give me a word, a sign. It is too perilous to write; indeed, I know
not how I shall convey these lines to your hands. At any rate, do
not you attempt to send a letter to me. He might be on our traces
even now.

"But to-morrow is the day of the _fete_. Be there in the
neighbourhood of the band, and stay till I find you. Then, no
words, but speak to me only with your eyes. If _they_ are friendly
I shall know enough. Ah, Amanda, all will come right if you are
mine. My own, my Amanda.

"Till death,

"Your unhappy cousin,

"LUIGI."

No sooner had Amanda read this letter than she felt that she loved
Luigi. Never before had she so much as hinted to herself a thought of
this, but now she loved him with all her soul. She had no doubt on that
point.

As to what Mansana had said about him, that might be based on a
misunderstanding; and as to the promise Luigi had given, that, she
thought, was obviously a matter of no importance. Young girls do not
take a pledge of this kind _au pied de la lettre_, when it seems to
them unreasonable. Besides, Mansana had left the place.

So the next day came--the day of the _fete_. It was a fine warm autumn
morning, and Amanda was up and ready betimes. The bands of music had
marched through the streets at sunrise, and the cannon had thundered a
salute. The churches, decorated outside as well as within, were crowded
for the early service, and our little Amanda was there by her father's
side, tricked out in her best holiday finery. She offered up a prayer
for Luigi, and as she rose from her knees she practised her lips in a
smile, the friendly smile and deeply confiding glance that should bring
hope and comfort to her distressed adorer. After the procession and the
mid-day meal, she hastened to take up her position at the appointed
place. The band had already begun to play in the market square, but
Amanda hurried her father's customarily sedate pace so much that they
were enabled to find room among the very first arrivals, though with
the natural result that after they had been standing there an hour they
found themselves wedged in the thickest of the throng. She looked at
her father's perspiring face, and thought mournfully how unattractive
her own would look in Luigi's eyes. They must make their way out, cost
what it might; that is, provided it did _not_ cost a flower, or a
knot of ribbon, or even a vigorous eff