Married to Bosio, she would be free
altogether from any one's interference in her household.

She met them all at luncheon, and was struck by the fact that both men,
as well as Matilde, looked pale and harassed, as though they had slept
little. For there was little sleep or rest, except for Veronica, during
those days of gnawing anxiety. She was struck, too, and startled, by
Gregorio's hideous laugh, which broke out twice during the meal without
any apparent reason. Even the servants seemed to shudder at it and
looked at him anxiously, and Matilde's dark eyes tried to control him.
Indeed, when she looked at him, he seemed docile enough, except that his
face twitched very strangely as he nodded to her.

But they all talked, with the evident intention of seeming at their
ease; and in a measure they succeeded, for they were not weaklings like
Gianluca. Bosio was by far the least strong in character, but his very
remarkable self-possession made him their equal in the present case. On
the previous evening, when Veronica had not been present, they had
scarcely made an effort; but now that she was seated at table with them,
they performed their parts conscientiously and not without success.

They were encouraged, too, by Veronica's manner to Bosio. After her
experience in the morning it was a distinct pleasure to be again in his
society, and she talked enthusiastically to him of the Bride of
Lammermoor--the book he had given her and which she had begun to read
during her solitary dinner on the previous evening. She was sure of the
response to what she said, before she said it, and it came surely
enough. She felt that he understood her, and that she should be glad to
talk with him every day. Several days had passed since they had been
alone together for half an hour.

She compared him with the photograph of him, too, and she came to the
conclusion that the likeness was not so much flattered, after all. His
unusual pallor to-day had something luminous in it, and the features, in
two days of suffering, had grown thinner with a sort of finely chiselled
accentuation of their natural refinement. To-day, he reminded her of
certain portraits of Van Dyck. But when luncheon was over, she avoided
being alone with him, for she had not yet come to any decision. It would
be more true, perhaps, to say that she distrusted herself in the
decision she now seemed to have reached too suddenly. For in the
expansion of sympathy she enjoyed so m