he syndic; and I am afraid
that he will not be well enough for that in less than a month, at the
earliest."

The wandering eyes suddenly fixed themselves on her face, the strange
great features relaxed, and the wide, thin lips smiled at her. His
happiness was strangely founded, but it was genuine, though not
altogether noble. Her words were a reprieve; and he could keep his
secret longer, almost, perhaps, until he died, and when he should be
dying, it would be easier to tell. But that was far from being all. He
loved her, as the source of great charity and kindness from which the
people were drawing life, with all his own passionate charity; and he
loved her for herself, for her gentleness and her hardness, because she
ruled him, and because she touched his heart. All other thoughts away,
he could not bear to think of her as bound for life to be the actual
wife of a helpless cripple.

And something of her own heart he half guessed and half knew. For in her
innocence she had confessed to him how she had thought of Taquisara,
when she had been alone that day, and how the blood had flowed in her
face, and burned her so that she was almost sure that such thoughts
must be wrong. It was because she had told him these things that he had
watched Taquisara ever since, and he had seen that the man loved her
silently.

But he knew also, as well as any one could know it, that Gianluca would
never stand upon his feet again. And, moreover, he knew that though it
would seem wrong to Veronica to love Taquisara, and would be wrong, if
she had intention, as it were, yet there could be no real sin in it, for
she was not Gianluca's wife. Had she been truly married, Don Teodoro,
gentle and old, would have found strength to force Taquisara to go
away--had anything more than the force of honour been needed in such a
case.

"I am very glad, my dear Princess," he said, and his voice trembled in
the reaction after his own anxiety. "You do not wish me to go to Naples,
now?" he said with an interrogation, after a brief pause. "You would
rather that I should wait until Christmas?"

"Of course--if you can," answered Veronica, somewhat surprised at his
change of tone. "But if you really must go, if you are so very anxious
to go at once, I must not hinder you."

"I will see," said Don Teodoro. "I will think of it. Perhaps it can be
arranged--indeed, I think it can."

He was old, she thought, and he had never been decided in character,
except