sk
no counsel of her godfather or of Savonarola until she had made one
determined effort to speak freely with Tito and obtain his consent that
she should live apart from him. She desired not to leave him
clandestinely again, or to forsake Florence. She would tell him that if
he ever felt a real need of her, she would come back to him. Was not
that the utmost faithfulness to her bond that could be required of her?
A shuddering anticipation came over her that he would clothe a refusal
in a sneering suggestion that she should enter a convent as the only
mode of quitting him that would not be scandalous. He knew well that
her mind revolted from that means of escape, not only because of her own
repugnance to a narrow rule, but because all the cherished memories of
her father forbade that she should adopt a mode of life which was
associated with his deepest griefs and his bitterest dislike.

Tito had announced his intention of coming home this evening. She would
wait for him, and say what she had to say at once, for it was difficult
to get his ear during the day. If he had the slightest suspicion that
personal words were coming, he slipped away with an appearance of
unpremeditated ease. When she sent for Maso to tell him that she would
wait for his master, she observed that the old man looked at her and
lingered with a mixture of hesitation and wondering anxiety; but finding
that she asked him no question, he slowly turned away. Why should she
ask questions? Perhaps Maso only knew or guessed something of what she
knew already.

It was late before Tito came. Romola had been pacing up and down the
long room which had once been the library, with the windows open, and a
loose white linen robe on instead of her usual black garment. She was
glad of that change after the long hours of heat and motionless
meditation; but the coolness and exercise made her more intensely
wakeful, and as she went with the lamp in her hand to open the door for
Tito, he might well have been startled by the vividness of her eyes and
the expression of painful resolution, which was in contrast with her
usual self-restrained quiescence before him. But it seemed that this
excitement was just what he expected.

"Ah! it is you, Romola. Maso is gone to bed," he said, in a grave,
quiet tone, interposing to close the door for her. Then, turning round,
he said, looking at her more fully than he was wont, "You have heard it
all, I see."

Romola qu