Harley mused irresolute. He inclined to confide to her the danger which her father had concealed; but had he the right to do so against her father’s will? “Give me,” he said, “time to reflect, and to obtain permission to intrust you with a secret which, in my judgment, you should know. Meanwhile, this much I may say, that rather than you should incur the danger that I believe he exaggerates, your father would have given you a protector—even in Randal Leslie.” Violante started. “But,” resumed Harley, with a calm, in which a certain deep mournfulness was apparent, unconsciously to himself—“but I trust you are reserved for a fairer fate, and a nobler spouse. I have vowed to live henceforth in the common workday world. But for you, bright child, for you, I am a dreamer still!” Violante turned her eyes for one instant towards the melancholy speaker. The look thrilled to his heart. He bowed his face involuntarily. When he looked up, she had left his side. He did not this time attempt to follow her, but moved away and plunged amidst the leafless trees. An hour afterwards he re-entered the house, and again sought to see Helen. She had now recovered sufficiently to give him the interview he requested. He approached her with a grave and serious gentleness. “My dear Helen,” said he, “you have consented to be my wife, my life’s mild companion; let it be soon—soon—for I need you. I need all the strength of that holy tie. Helen, let me press you to fix the time.” “I owe you too much,” answered Helen, looking down, “to have a will but yours. But your mother,” she added, perhaps clinging to the idea of some reprieve—“your mother has not yet—” “My mother—true. I will speak first to her. You shall receive from my family all honour due to your gentle virtues. Helen, by the way, have you mentioned to Violante the bond between us?” “No—that is, I fear I may have unguardedly betrayed it, against Lady Lansmere’s commands too—but—but—” “So, Lady Lansmere forbade you to name it to Violante. This should not be. I will answer for her permission to revoke that interdict. It is due to Violante and to you. Tell your young friend all. Ah, Helen, if I am at times cold or wayward, bear with me—bear with me; for you love me, do you not?” CHAPTER X. That same evening Randal heard from Levy (at whose house he staid late) of that self-introduction to Violante which (thanks to his skeleton key) Peschiera had contrived to effect; and the Count seemed more than sanguine—he seemed assured as to the full and speedy success of his matrimonial enterprise. “Therefore,” said Levy, “I trust I may very soon congratulate you on the acquisition of your family estates.” “Strange!” answered Randal, “strange that my fortunes seem so bound up with the fate of a foreigner like Beatrice di Negra and her connection with Frank Hazeldean.” He looked up at the clock as he spoke, and added— “Frank, by this time, has told his father of his engagement.”