quit
the city within a prescribed number of hours, and her brain was racked
to discover why Laura appeared so little indignant at the barbarous
act of despotism. Laura undertook to break the bad news to Merthyr. The
parting was as quiet and cheerful as, in the opposite degree, Vittoria
had thought it would be melancholy and regretful. "What a Government!"
Merthyr said, and told her to let him hear of any changes. "All changes
that please my friends please me."

Vittoria kissed his forehead with one grateful murmur of farewell to the
bravest heart she had ever known. The going to her happiness seemed more
like going to something fatal until she reached the Lago Maggiore. There
she saw September beauty, and felt as if the splendour encircling her
were her bridal decoration. But no bridegroom stood to greet her on
the terrace-steps between the potted orange and citron-trees. Countess
Ammiani extended kind hands to her at arms' length.

"You have come," she said. "I hope that it is not too late."

Vittoria was a week without sight of her lover: nor did Countess Ammiani
attempt to explain her words, or speak of other than common daily
things. In body and soul Vittoria had taken a chill. The silent blame
resting on her in this house called up her pride, so that she would not
ask any questions; and when Carlo came, she wanted warmth to melt her.
Their meeting was that of two passionless creatures. Carlo kissed her
loyally, and courteously inquired after her health and the health of
friends in Milan, and then he rallied his mother. Agostino had arrived
with him, and the old man, being in one of his soft moods, unvexed by
his conceits, Vittoria had some comfort from him of a dull kind. She
heard Carlo telling his mother that he must go in the morning. Agostino
replied to her quick look at him, "I stay;" and it seemed like a little
saved from the wreck, for she knew that she could speak to Agostino as
she could not to the countess. When his mother prepared to retire,
Carlo walked over to his bride, and repeated rapidly and brightly his
inquiries after friends in Milan. She, with a pure response to his
natural-unnatural manner, spoke of Merthyr Powys chiefly: to which
he said several times, "Dear fellow!" and added, "I shall always love
Englishmen for his sake."

This gave her one throb. "I could not leave him, Carlo."

"Certainly not, certainly not," said Carlo. "I should have been happy to
wait on him myself. I was busy; I