"Andrea, Andrea," cried his father again; then came rapid footsteps, and in a few seconds Andrea stood once more before me. He turned from one to the other questioningly. The Marchese took my hand. "My son," he said, "can you not persuade this lady to remain with us." He looked up, my Andrea, and our eyes met; but on neither side was speech or movement. The old man went on. "Andrea, it is possible that we did wrong, your mother and I, in attempting to interfere with you in this matter. You must forgive us if we are slow to understand the new spirit of radicalism which, it seems, is the spirit of the times. Once before our wishes clashed; but, my son, I cannot bear to send you away in anger a second time. As for this lady, she knows how deeply we all respect her. Persuade her to forgive us, if indeed you can." Andrea I saw was deeply moved; he shaded his eyes with his hand, and the tears flowed down my own cheeks unchecked. "Well, Elsie, it is for you to decide." He spoke at last, coldly, in an off-hand manner. I was lacking in pride, perhaps in dignity, for though I said nothing, I held out my hand. "Are you quite sure you love me, Elsie?" "Quite, quite sure, Andrea." * * * * * * "I am so glad," cried Bianca, some ten minutes later, giving me a hug, "I am so glad it is you and not that bad-tempered Costanza." "We are all glad," said the old Marchese, holding out his hand with a smile, while Romeo and his mother stood bearing their defeat with commendable grace. * * * * * * So it came to pass that on the evening of that wonderful day Andrea and I, instead of being borne by express trains to Genoa and Leghorn respectively, were pacing the gallery arm in arm in the sunlight. We had been engaged in this occupation for about an hour, and now he knew all about my mother and sisters, and the details of the happy life at Islington. "We will live in England, but every year we will come to Italy," he was saying, as we paused before the Bronzino, which seemed to have taken in the situation. "I love Italy more than any place in the world," I answered. A pause. "We will be married immediately after Easter, Elsie!" "Andrea, I go home the day after to-morrow." "And to-morrow," he said, "we will go to the mountains." The Gresham Press, UNWIN BROTHERS, CHILWORTH AND LONDON.