ll, Pipa." Enrica opened the door with feverish
haste. "I must not keep my aunt waiting."

"Let me put a shawl round you," insisted kind Pipa. "The evening is
fresh."

She wrapped a large white shawl about her, that made Enrica look paler
and more ghost-like than before.

"Nobody loves me like you, Pipa--nobody--dear Pipa!"

Enrica threw her soft arms around Pipa as she said this. She felt so
lonely the tears came into her eyes, already swollen with excessive
weeping.

"Who knows?" was Pipa's grave reply. "It is a strange world. You must
not judge a man always by what he does."

Enrica gave a deep sigh. She had hurried out of her room into the sala
with a headlong impulse to rush to her aunt. Now she dreaded what her
aunt might have to say to her. The little strength she had suddenly
left her. The warm blood that had mounted to her head chilled within
her veins. For a few moments she leaned against Pipa, who watched her
with anxious eyes. Then, disengaging herself from her, she trod feebly
across the floor. The sala was in darkness. Enrica stretched out
her hands before her to feel for the door. When she had found it she
stopped terrified. What was she about to hear? The deep voice of Fra
Pacifico was audible from within. Enrica placed her hand upon the
handle of the door--then she withdrew it. Without the autumn wind
moaned round the corners of the house. How it must roar in the abyss
under the cliffs! Enrica thought. How dark it must be down there in
the blackness of the night! Like letters written in fire, Nobili's
words rose up before her--"I am gone from you forever!" Oh! why was
she not dead?--Why was she not lying deep below, buried among the cold
rocks?--Enrica felt very faint. A groan escaped her.

Fra Pacifico, accustomed to listen to the almost inaudible sounds of
the sick and the dying, heard it.

The door opened. Enrica found herself within the room.

"Enrica," said the marchesa, addressing her blandly (did not all now
depend upon her?)--"Enrica, you look very pale."

She made no reply, but looked round vacantly. The light of the lamp,
coming suddenly out of the darkness, the finding herself face to face
with the marchesa, dazzled and alarmed her.

Fra Pacifico took both Enrica's hands in his, drew an arm-chair
forward, and placed her in it.

"Enrica, I have sent for you to ask you a question," the marchesa
spoke.

At the sound of her aunt's voice, Enrica shuddered visibly. Was it
not, aft