d to read. But it was an immense relief when you came!"

"You did not once believe what she said might possibly be true?" asked
Giovanni, with a loving look.

"I? How could you ever think it!" exclaimed Corona. Then she laughed, and
added, "But of course you knew that I would not."

"Indeed, yes," he answered. "It never entered my head."

"By-the-bye," said old Saracinesca, glancing at the Duchessa's black
bonnet and gloved hands, "you must have been just ready to go out when
she came--we must not keep you. I suppose that when she said she would
bring her proofs to-morrow at this hour, she meant she would bring them
here. Shall we come to-morrow then?"

"Yes--by all means," she answered. "Come to breakfast at one o'clock. I
am alone, you know, for Sister Gabrielle has insisted upon going back to
her community. But what does it matter now?"

"What does it matter?" echoed the Prince. "You are to be married so soon.
I really think we can do as we please." He generally did as he pleased.

The two men left her, and a few minutes later she descended the steps of
the palace and entered her carriage, as though nothing had happened.

Six months had passed since she had given her troth to Giovanni upon the
tower of Saracinesca, and she knew that she loved him better now than
then. Little had happened of interest in the interval of time, and the
days had seemed long. But until after Christmas she had remained at
Astrardente, busying herself constantly with the improvements she had
already begun, and aided by the counsels of Giovanni. He had taken a
cottage of hers in the lower part of her village, and had fitted it up
with the few comforts he judged necessary. In this lodging he had
generally spent half the week, going daily to the palace upon the hill
and remaining for long hours in Corona's society, studying her plans and
visiting with her the works which grew beneath their joint direction. She
had grown to know him as she had not known him before, and to understand
more fully his manly character. He was a very resolute man, and very much
in earnest when he chanced to be doing anything; but the strain of
melancholy which he inherited from his mother made him often inclined to
a sort of contemplative idleness, during which his mind seemed
preoccupied with absorbing thoughts. Many people called his fits of
silence an affectation, or part of his system for rendering himself
interesting; but Corona soon saw how real was his a