t like you. But we will
not think of it now, Tito; it seems to me as if there would always be
pale sad faces among the flowers, and eyes that look in vain. Let us
go."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE PORTRAIT.

When Tito left the Via de' Bardi that day in exultant satisfaction at
finding himself thoroughly free from the threatened peril, his thoughts,
no longer claimed by the immediate presence of Romola and her father,
recurred to those futile hours of dread in which he was conscious of
having not only felt but acted as he would not have done if he had had a
truer foresight. He would not have parted with his ring; for Romola,
and others to whom it was a familiar object, would be a little struck
with the apparent sordidness of parting with a gem he had professedly
cherished, unless he feigned as a reason the desire to make some special
gift with the purchase-money; and Tito had at that moment a nauseating
weariness of simulation. He was well out of the possible consequences
that might have fallen on him from that initial deception, and it was no
longer a load on his mind; kind fortune had brought him immunity, and he
thought it was only fair that she should. Who was hurt by it? The
results to Baldassarre were too problematical to be taken into account.
But he wanted now to be free from any hidden shackles that would gall
him, though ever so little, under his ties to Romola. He was not aware
that that very delight in immunity which prompted resolutions not to
entangle himself again, was deadening the sensibilities which alone
could save him from entanglement.

But, after all, the sale of the ring was a slight matter. Was it also a
slight matter that little Tessa was under a delusion which would
doubtless fill her small head with expectations doomed to
disappointment? Should he try to see the little thing alone again and
undeceive her at once, or should he leave the disclosure to time and
chance? Happy dreams are pleasant, and they easily come to an end with
daylight and the stir of life. The sweet, pouting, innocent, round
thing! It was impossible not to think of her. Tito thought he should
like some time to take her a present that would please her, and just
learn if her step-father treated her more cruelly now her mother was
dead. Or, should he at once undeceive Tessa, and then tell Romola about
her, so that they might find some happier lot for the poor thing? No:
that unfortunate little incident of the