as possessed of all
those attributes which should by right belong to an Angel of Light?
She knew all that without requiring the evidence of a lady from
Rome,--having no need of any evidence on that matter from any other
human being. Of what use could any evidence be on such a subject from
the most truthful lips that ever spoke! Had she not found it all out
herself would any words from others have prevailed with her? But she
had found it out herself. It was already her gospel. That he was
tender and true, manly, heroic,--as brightly angelic as could be
any Angel of Light,--was already an absolute fact to her. No!--her
heart had never been predisposed to any one else. It was of him she
had always dreamed even long before she had seen him. He was the
man, perfect in all good things, who was to come and take her with
him;--if ever man should come and take her. She wanted no Marchesa
Baldoni now to tell her that the angel had in truth come and realised
himself before her in all his glory.

But she had shown herself to be utterly unfit for the angel. Though
she recognised him now, she had not recognised him in time:--and even
when she had recognised him she had been driven by her madness to
reject him. Feminine reserve and coyness! Folly! Yes, indeed; she
knew all that, too, without need of telling from her elders. The kind
of coyness which she had displayed had been the very infatuation of
feminine imbecility. It was because nature had made her utterly unfit
for such a destiny that she had been driven by coyness and feminine
reserve to destroy herself! It was thus that Ayala conversed with
herself.

"I know his nature so well, and feel that he would not bear rebuffs
of which many another man would think nothing." Thus, she did not
doubt, the Marchesa had spoken very truly. But of what value was
all that now? She could not recall the rebuff. She could not now
eradicate the cowardice which had made her repeat those wicked fatal
words,--"I cannot." "I cannot." "I cannot." The letter had come too
late, for there was nothing she could do to amend her doom. She must
send some answer to her friend in Italy, but there could be nothing
in her answer to her to assist her. The feminine reserve and coyness
had become odious to her,--as it had been displayed by herself to
him. But it still remained in full force as to any assistance from
others. She could not tell another to send him back to her. She could
not implore help in her trou