Ramiro d'Orco's eye had been fixed upon him with a cold steadfast gaze while he spoke, and the colour in his cheek still deepened. "I have placed great confidence in you, Lorenzo Visconti," said Leonora's father. "I do not believe you would abuse it. I do not believe you would wrong her or wrong me. See that you do not." "I am incapable of doing either, Signor Ramiro," replied Lorenzo, boldly. "I may sometimes have thought for a brief moment, that the only mode of removing some difficulties that presented themselves to us, was to take your consent for granted and unite my fate to hers by a tie which would give me a right both to direct and protect her; but the half-formed purpose was always barred by remembrance of the trust you had reposed in me; and Leonora herself can testify that I never even hinted at such a course." Ramiro d'Orco again paused in silence for a moment, and then said, "Lorenzo Visconti, I have loved you well from causes that you know not. Listen for a moment; there are some men who are so formed that a kindness received or a wrong endured is never forgotten. They are perhaps not the best men in the world's opinion, they have their faults, their frailties; they may commit sins, nay crimes, according to the world's estimation---they may be considered cold, selfish, unprincipled; but the waters of these men's hearts have in them a petrifying power which preserves for ever the memories of other men's acts towards them. They cannot forgive, nor forget, nor forbear like other men. A kind word spoken, a good act done towards them in times of difficulty or danger will be remembered for years--ay, for long years--twenty? more than that; and a wrong inflicted will equally cut into the memory and will have its results, when he who perpetrated will himself have forgotten it. I am one of those men, Lorenzo; and, though I speak not often of myself, I would have you know it. But let us talk of other things," he added in a less severe and serious tone. "Now tell me truly, did you not think when I told Leonora to come on to Rome, that I had changed my purposes towards yourself, or that, at least, they were shaken; that some more wealthy match presented itself, or some ambitious object led me to withdraw my approbation of your suit? You doubted, you feared--was it not so?" As he spoke another person entered the room with a gliding but stately step. He was dressed richly in a morning robe of precious furs, and his remarkably handsome person was set off to every advantage by the arrangement of the hair, the beard, and the garb. Ramiro d'Orco only noticed his coming by rising and inclining his head, while the other cast himself gracefully down upon the pile of cushions, and began to eat some confections which he took from a small golden box.