-morrow," the full, ripe lips uttered--"to-morrow."

Seeing that he hesitated, Nera pointed with a gesture toward the door,
and Nobili departed.

When the door had closed, and the sound of his retreating footsteps
along the empty rooms had ceased, Nera raised her hand, then let it
fall heavily upon the table.

"I have done it!" she exclaimed, triumphantly. "Now I can bear to
think of that Orsetti ball. Poor Nobili! if he had spoken then! But he
did not. It is his own fault."

After standing a minute or two thinking, Nora uncovered the lamp. Then
she took it up in both her hands, stepped to a mirror that hung near,
and, turning the light hither and thither, looked at her blooming
face, in full and in profile. Then she replaced the lamp upon the
table, yawned, and left the room.

Next morning a note was put into Count Nobili's hand at breakfast. It
bore the Boccarini arms and the initials of the marchesa. The contents
were these:

MOST ESTEEMED COUNT: As a friend of our family, I have the honor of
informing you that the marriage of my dear daughter Nera with Prince
Ruspoli is arranged, and will take place in a week. I hope you will
be present. I have the honor to assure you of my most sincere and
distinguished sentiments.

"MARCHESA AGNESA BOCCARINI."

In the night train from Lucca that evening, Count Nobili was seated.
"He was about to travel," he had informed his household. "Later he
would send them his address." Before he left, he wrote a letter to
Enrica, and sent it to Corellia.

PART IV.

CHAPTER I.

WAITING AND LONGING.

It was the morning of the fourth day since Count Nobili had left
Corellia. All had been very quiet about the house. The marchesa
herself took little heed of any thing. She sat much in her own room.
She was silent and preoccupied; but she was not displeased. The one
dominant passion of her soul--the triumph of the Guinigi name--was
now attained. Now she could bear to think of the grand old palace at
Lucca, the seigneurial throne, the nuptial-chamber; now she could gaze
in peace on the countenance of the great Castruccio. No spoiler would
dare to tread these sacred floors. No irreverent hand would presume
to handle her ancestral treasures; no vulgar eye would rest on
the effigies of her race gathered on these walls. All would now be
safe--safe under the protection of wealth, enormous wealth--wealth to
guard, to preserve, to possess.

Enrica had been the agent by which a