"They are truthful. I fell in love with her; and I told her so because there was that fatal thing, an opportunity--that is, a garden-seat, starlight, and the perfume of flowers. Of course these were irresistible." "Indeed?" "Do not be contemptuous. It is possible that you may not have been exposed to the force of the combination as yet. She rebuked me with that lovely, gentle softness of hers, and then she went away; the Sicilian days were over. I wrote to her--" He was sitting in the same position, with his hand shading his eyes, looking at her; as he spoke the last phrase he perceived that she colored, and colored deeply. "You knew the story generally," he said, dropping his arm and leaning forward. "But it is not possible you saw that letter!" She rose and walked across, as if to get a nearer view of Day. "I admire it so much!" she said, after a moment. "If it should stretch out that great right arm, it could crush us to atoms." And she turned towards him again. As she did she saw that he had colored also; a deep, dark flush had risen in his face, and covered even his forehead. "I am safe--very safe!" he said. "After reading such a letter as that, written to another woman, you are not likely to bestow much regard upon the writer, try as he may!" Miss Stowe looked at him. "You are overacting," she said, coldly. "It is not in your part to pretend to care so soon. It was to be built up gradually." "Lorenzo understands me," he said, recovering himself. "Shall I go on?" "I think I must go now," she answered, declining a seat; "it is late." "In a moment. Let me finish, now that I have begun. I had thought of returning to America; indeed, Beatrice had advised it; she thought I was becoming expatriated. But I gave it up and remained in Italy because I did not wish to appear too much her slave (women do not like men who obey them too well, you know). After this effort I was consistent enough to follow her to England. I found her in--Devonshire, lovelier than ever; and I was again fascinated; I was even ready to accept beforehand all the rules and embargo of the strictest respect to the memory of Mr. Lovell." Miss Stowe's eyes were upon Day; but here, involuntarily, she glanced towards her companion. His face remained unchanged. "I was much in love with her. She allowed me no encouragement. But I did not give up a sort of vague hope I had until this recent change. Then, of course, I knew that it was all over for me." "I am sorry for you," replied Miss Stowe after a pause, still looking at Day. "Of course I have counted upon that--upon your sympathy. I knew that you would understand." "Spare me the quotation, 'A fellow-feeling,' and so forth," she said, moving towards the door. "I am going; I feel as though we had already desecrated too long this sacred place."