The tears, which I confided to no one except the wooden-legged blackbird--for Giudice would have made such a fuss about them--were still upon my cheeks, when I heard the well-known step--not half so elastic as usual. I fled into my bedroom, and pushed the boxes about, to make a goodly noise, and to account for the colour in my face. Then out I came at the side-door, and ran downstairs perversely, though I knew that Conrad and Isola were in my sitting-room. But this first-rate manoeuvre only outwitted its author, for Isola ran down after me, and sent me upstairs alone. All my little nonsense vanished the moment I looked in Conrad’s face. His healthy brown complexion was faded to an opal white; beneath his eyes such dark blue rims, that I thought he had spectacles on; and on either cheek a round red spot was burning. So shocked I was, that when he took my hand, I turned my face away and smothered down a sob. I felt that I had no right to be so fresh and blooming. Nor was it only in health that the contrast between us lay. I was dressed with unusual care, having fidgeted all the morning, and with my utmost taste. Poor Conrad was in his working clothes, full of marble dust, tumbled, threadbare, and even in need of mending; his hair swept anyhow, and his hands not over-lately washed. Yet, for all that, he was as clearly a gentleman, as I was a lady. Not so would he have been arrayed, I fancy, had he thought to see neat Clara. And yet, who knows? "I trust that you will excuse me," he began to say, "but such things have happened lately--you will not account me rude--I had no sense at all of this great pleasure." "I fear you have not been very happy." I knew not what to say, or how to keep my voice clear. "Yes," he replied, "as happy as I deserve. It serves me aright for esteeming so much of myself, before that I do anything. But I will win my way"--and his own proud glance flashed out--"and we shall see how many will scorn me then." "No one in the world can scorn you," I said very softly, and my voice thrilled through him. "Ah, you are always kind and gentle:"--am I though, thought I--"but I will no more fatigue you with my different lot in life. I am told that some great nobleman has won you for his own. Perhaps you will give me an order." His throat was swelling with these bitter words, and he looked at his dusty clothes. Somewhat rude I thought him, but I knew not half his troubles. "Whoever told you that, has made a great mistake. I am engaged to no one. Your sister knows me better." And I turned away to the window. For a minute he said nothing; but I could hear his heart beat. Stedfastly I looked at the cheesemonger’s shop. Oh for a flower, or something on the balcony! Presently he came round the corner of the sofa. Without being rude, I could not help turning round. His face was much, much, brighter, and his eyes more kind. "Have I said any harm--I would not for the world--I knew not it was harm."