moment he could not afford
to neglect the least circumstance which might help him. As for what he
should say, he had thought of many speeches while he was in the street,
but he did not remember any of them now, nor even that he had seemed to
hear himself speaking them.

"Why did you write that letter?" he asked, after a moment's pause.

Cecilia looked up quickly, surprised by the direct question, and then
gazed into his face in silence. She had confessed to herself that she
loved him, but she had not known how much, nor what it would mean to sit
so near him and hear him asking the question that had only one answer.
His eyes were steady and brave, when she looked at them, but not so hard
as she had expected. In earlier days she had always felt that they could
command her and even send her to sleep if he chose, but she did not feel
that now. The question had been asked suddenly and directly, but not
harshly. She did not answer it.

"Did Guido show you my letter?" she asked in a low voice.

But she was sure of the reply before it came.

"No. He told me that you broke off your engagement with him very
suddenly. I suppose you have done so because you think you do not care
for him enough to marry him, but he did not tell me so. Is that it?"

Cecilia nodded quickly, folded her hands nervously upon her knees, and
looked across the room.

"Yes," she said. "That is it. I do not love him."

"Yet you like him very much," Lamberti answered. "I have often seen you
together, and I am sure you do."

"I am very fond of him. If I had not been foolish, he might always have
been my best friend."

"I do not think you were foolish. You could hardly do better than marry
your best friend, I think. He is mine, and I know what his friendship is
worth. You will find out, as I have, that if he is sometimes indolent
and slow to make up his mind, he never changes afterwards. You may be
separated from him for a year or two, but you will find him always the
same when you meet him again, always gentle, always true, always the
most honourable of men."

"He is that, and more," Cecilia said softly. "I like everything about
him."

"And he loves you," Lamberti continued. "He loves you as men do not
often love the women they marry, and as you, with your fortune, may
never be loved again."

"I know it. I feel it. It makes it all the harder."

"But you thought you loved him, I am sure. You would not have accepted
him otherwise."

"Yes. Tha