"But not at this moment--not to owe her hand to the compulsion of gratitude," answered gentleman Frank. "Gratitude! And you do not know her heart, then? Do not know--" the Count interrupted himself, and went on after a pause. "Mr Hazeldean, I need not say, that we rank among the first houses in Europe. My pride led me formerly into the error of disposing of my sister's hand to one whom she did not love--merely because in rank he was her equal. I will not again commit such an error, nor would Beatrice again obey me if I sought to constrain her. Where she marries, there she will love. If, indeed, she accept you, as I believe she will, it will be from affection solely. If she does, I cannot scruple to accept this loan--a loan from a brother-in-law--loan to me, and not charged against her fortune! _That_, sir, (turning to Levy, with his grand air,) you will take care to arrange. If she do not accept you, Mr Hazeldean, the loan, I repeat, is not to be thought of. Pardon me, if I leave you. This, one way or other, must be decided at once." The Count inclined his head with much stateliness, and then quitted the room. His step was heard ascending the stairs. "If," said Levy, in the tone of a mere man of business--"if the Count pay the debts, and the lady's fortune be only charged with your own--after all it will not be a bad marriage in the world's eye, nor ought it to be in a father's. Trust me, we shall get Mr Hazeldean's consent, and cheerfully too." Frank did not listen; he could only listen to his love, to his heart beating loud with hope and with fear. Levy sate down before the table, and drew up a long list of figures in a very neat hand--a list of figures on _two_ accounts, which the _post-obit_ on the Casino was destined to efface. After a lapse of time, which to Frank seemed interminable, the Count reappeared. He took Frank aside, with a gesture to Levy, who rose, and retired into the drawing-room. "My dear young friend," said Peschiera, "as I suspected, my sister's heart is wholly yours. Stop; hear me out. But unluckily, I informed her of your generous proposal; it was most unguarded, most ill-judged in me, and that has wellnigh spoiled all; she has so much pride and spirit; so great a fear that you may think yourself betrayed into an imprudence you may hereafter regret, that I am sure she will tell you she does not love you, she cannot accept you, and so forth. Lovers like you are not easily deceived. Don't go by her words; but you shall see her yourself and judge. Come." Followed mechanically by Frank, the Count ascended the stairs and threw open the door of Beatrice's room. The Marchesa's back was turned; but Frank could see that she was weeping. "I have brought my friend to plead for himself," said the Count in French; "and take my advice, sister, and do not throw away all prospect of real and solid happiness for a vain scruple. _Heed me!_" He retired and left Frank alone with Beatrice.