me, nothing would have
induced you to come!"

From her place next the master of the house, the Countess Fortiguerra
looked at them, and was pleased to see that they were already on good
terms.

"Thank you," Cecilia added in a quiet voice, and gravely. "Besides," she
continued, "there is no reason, in the world why we should not be good
friends, is there?"

She looked full at him now, without a smile, and he realised for the
first time how very young she was. A married woman with an instinct for
flirtation might have made the speech, but a girl older than Cecilia
would have known that it might be misunderstood. Guido answered her look
with one in which doubt did not keep the upper hand more than a single
second.

"There is no reason whatever why we should not be the best of friends,"
he answered, in a tone as low as her own. "Perhaps I may be of service
to you. I hope so. Besides, I am made for friendship!"

He laughed rather carelessly as he spoke the last words, and glanced
round the table to see whether anybody was watching him. He met the
Countess Fortiguerra's approving glance.

"Why do you laugh at friendship?" asked Cecilia, not quite pleased.

"I do not laugh at friendship at all," Guido answered. "I laugh in order
that people may see me and hear me. This is the first service I can
render you, to be natural and unconcerned, as I generally am. If I
behaved in any unusual way--if I were too grave, or too much
interested--you understand!"

"Yes. You are thoughtful. Thank you."

There was a little pause, during which a luxuriant lady in green, who
sat on Guido's other side, determined to attract his attention, and
spoke to him; but before he could answer, some one opposite asked her a
question about dress, which was intensely interesting to her, because
she dressed abominably. She promptly fell into the snare which had been
set for her with the evil intention of leading her on to talk foolishly.
She followed at once, and Guido was free again.

"Now that we are friends," he said to Cecilia, "may I ask you a friendly
question?"

"Ask me anything you like," she answered, and her innocent eyes promised
him the truth.

"Were you told anything, before we met at my aunt's the other day?"

"Not a word! And you?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I remember that on that very afternoon----" he
stopped short.

"What?"

"You may not like what I was going to say."

"I shall, if it is true, and if you have a good r