ad improved a little, and she asked
Veronica to go with her. But the young girl had no desire to be driven
through Naples in a closed carriage a second time that day, and she went
away to her own room, with the intention of spending a quiet afternoon
by the fire with her novel.

On the previous evening she had read a little over her dinner, and from
time to time during the short evening she had returned to the book,
feeling that it was easier to read than to think, and much more
satisfactory. She took the volume now, but she could not read at all.
She was overcome by a wish which seemed wholly unaccountable, to send
for Bosio to meet her in the drawing-room, and to tell him outright that
she was willing to marry him. Nothing but maidenly self-respect
prevented her from doing so at once, and the hours seemed very long
before dinner. Many times she rose from her seat by the fire and moved
about her room in an objectless way, touching things uselessly and
looking for things which were not lost, which she did not want, but
which she could not find. She wished that she had her great jewels. She
would have tried them on before the mirror--anything to pass the time.
But they were all safely stored in one of the safest banks.

She grew more and more restless as the minutes passed and the dinner
hour approached. Looking at herself in the glass, she said that her
cheeks were no longer sallow, as they had seemed to be in the morning.
There was a fresh colour in them, and it was becoming to her and pleased
her. Her soft hair had fallen a little upon each side of her brows, and
her eyes were brilliantly bright. She looked at them when the twilight
was coming on, and they seemed to shine, with wide pupils, having a
light of their own.

At last the time came. Before she rang for her maid, who had brought
lights and had gone away again, she stood a moment before the fire and
looked once more at Bosio's photograph, asking herself seriously for the
last time whether she should marry him or not. But the answer was there
before the question, and she had made up her mind.

At the last minute, she had forgotten the flower she had promised to
wear, and she sent her maid in haste to see whether she could find one
of any sort in the house. It was the middle of December, and it was not
probable that such a thing could be found in the Palazzo Macomer. The
maid came back empty-handed. Veronica told her to find an artificial
one, and Elettra, a