ut not
yet wholly won, and each small secrecy was to the bond that held him
what the silver threads are to Damascus steel, welded into the whole
that the blade may bend double without breaking. But to Veronica it was
different; for she guessed instinctively how he looked upon such
trifles, and she did not wish them to multiply unduly. Each one was a
sting to her conscience.

"I hate secrets," she said gravely, after a pause. "Let us tell her. It
is much better."

"As you like," answered Gianluca, with a little disappointment, which
she did not fail to notice.

"You think that she will be scandalized? And that we shall not fence any
more? Why? I am sure, if she could see us, she would think it very
proper. It is not improper, is it?" She asked the last question
anxiously, as though in an after-thought.

"Improper? No! How absurd! If everything that is unusual were to be
considered improper, our writing to each other would be improper, too.
But we kept it a secret, all the same. I cannot imagine talking about
it. For me--everything that belongs to you is a secret."

Veronica leaned back in her chair, and her face grew still more grave,
but she did not answer. The struggle had begun again, and the
hesitation. Should she tell him, once for all, that she really never
could love him? Should she leave him the illusion he loved so well? Was
he to die, or was he to live? The answer to each question seemed to lie
in the query of the next. He spoke again before she broke the silence.

"Do you not feel that--a little--not as I do, but just a little, about
me?" he asked in a voice not timid, but very soft.

"No," she answered sadly. "Not as you do. No; it is quite different."

She did not look at him at once, for she was almost afraid to meet his
eyes, but she heard him catch his breath, as though to strangle a sigh
by main force, and his head moved on the cushion.

She had begun to hurt him.

"I thought you might," he said, faintly but steadily. "I almost thought
you did."

"No," she repeated, with ever-increasing gentleness. "No. Do not think
that--please do not!"

He said nothing, but again he moved his head. Then, seeing that the
moment had come, and that she must face it with truth or lie to him
while he lived, she turned her face bravely towards him, to tell him all
her heart.

"You are the only real friend I have in the world," she said. "But I can
never love you--never, Gianluca--never. It is not in me. Ther