the small sum with which he had
begun his operations. But the moral risk seemed enormous and grew in
importance as he thought of it.

He found Maria Consuelo looking pale and weary. She evidently had no
intention of going out that day, for she wore a morning gown and was
established upon a lounge with books and flowers beside her as though
she did not mean to move. She was not reading, however. Orsino was
startled by the sadness in her face.

She looked fixedly into his eyes as she gave him her hand, and he sat
down beside her.

"I am glad you are come," she said at last, in a low voice. "I have been
hoping all day that you would come early."

"I would have come this morning if I had dared," answered Orsino.

She looked at him again, and smiled faintly.

"I have a great deal to say to you," she began. Then she hesitated as
though uncertain where to begin.

"And I--" Orsino tried to take her hand, but she withdrew it.

"Yes, but do not say it. At least, not now."

"Why not, dear one? May I not tell you how I love you? What is it, love?
You are so sad to-day. Has anything happened?"

His voice grew soft and tender as he spoke, bending to her ear. She
pushed him gently back.

"You know what has happened," she answered. "It is no wonder that I am
sad."

"I do not understand you, dear. Tell me what it is."

"I told you too much yesterday--"

"Too much?"

"Far too much."

"Are you going to unsay it?"

"How can I?"

She turned her face away and her fingers played nervously with her
laces.

"No--indeed, neither of us can unsay such words," said Orsino. "But I do
not understand you yet, darling. You must tell me what you mean to-day."

"You know it all. It is because you will not understand--"

Orsino's face changed and his voice took another tone when he spoke.

"Are you playing with me, Consuelo?" he asked gravely.

She started slightly and grew paler than before.

"You are not kind," she said. "I am suffering very much. Do not make it
harder."

"I am suffering, too. You mean me to understand that you regret what
happened yesterday and that you wish to take back your words, that
whether you love me or not, you mean to act and appear as though you did
not, and that I am to behave as though nothing had happened. Do you
think that would be easy? And do you think I do not suffer at the mere
idea of it?"

"Since it must be--"

"There is no must," answered Orsino with energy. "You would ruin your