red.

As it happened, Ada did not, in the least, understand what she meant,
and supposing it was a matter of no importance, continued the perusal of
a work she held in her hand. She was startled by hearing a deep sigh,
and looking up, she saw a graceful female figure standing at the other
end of the room, with her eyes fixed intently on her. For the first
moment, the idea glanced across her mind, that her senses must have
deceived her, so statue-like was the form--so rigid was the gaze; but a
few seconds served to assure her that a human being was in her presence.
Her own look, as she lifted up her eyes, betokened surprise, though not
alarm, and there was that sweet and tranquil expression, that purity,
the consciousness of innocence, in her countenance, which the beautiful
Italian--for she was the intruder--interpreted aright. Nina did not
utter a word for some moments; but with the passionate impulse which
had, unhappily, too often guided her, she advanced towards her supposed
rival, and knelt down before her, bending her head to the ground. She
soon looked up, and gazed in her countenance with an expression of
earnest inquiry, as if she would read her thoughts.

"Lady," she at length exclaimed, "I have wronged you--I feel--I know--
you cannot be the base, the cruel being I have believed you. You would
not seek to estrange the affections of a husband from one who lives for
him alone. Say you do not love Argiri Caramitzo, the chief of this
island--you do not wish to win his love."

Astonishment prevented Ada from answering this extraordinary address,
and she hesitated, while she considered in what terms she should speak,
so that she might quickly tranquillise the agitated feelings of her
visitor, and, at the same time, avoid wounding them.

Nina seemed to mistake her silence for an acknowledgment of guilt, for
she sprang to her feet, and her dagger-blade flashed in her hand. In
another moment, it would have been stained with blood, had not Ada
exclaimed--

"Indeed you do me wrong, signora. I would not rob you of your husband's
love, for all the world can give. I am not mistaken in supposing you to
be the sister of Signor Paolo Montifalcone; and if so, I already know
your history, and, far from seeking to injure you, would do all in my
power to preserve you from harm."

"You can but injure me in one way, and that you might do unknowingly and
unwillingly," exclaimed the Italian, still regarding her with a