"I shall be leaving Rome in a few hours. After what has happened. I cannot remain any longer as aide-de-camp to H. R. H. and I am returning home to resign my commission in the service, and to see that it takes effect immediately. After that, my plans are undecided. "I meant what I said to you last evening, and I refuse to consider your answer as definite. I beg of you to take some time to think over the proposition. I shall wait patiently for your ultimate decision, which I hope may be in my favour. In any case, should you ever stand in need of a friend, remember that now and always, I shall be at your service. Unfortunately for myself, perhaps, I am not a man who changes, and ten years from now I shall still be the same towards you as I am to-day. A letter sent to the address in the lower left-hand corner will find me always. "Believe me, "Your devoted friend and servant," (here followed the signature and address.) Ragna read the letter through twice, thoughtfully. Its intentional restraint she took for coldness. Angelescu, in his effort to suit his language to her manner of the night before, and to avoid antagonizing her by any untimely warmth of expression, had overreached himself for, with her, the inevitable reaction had set in and the formality of the letter froze the feelings in her that a greater tenderness might have called forth. She misconstrued the delicacy of his intention, taking it for the ceremonious chivalry of a man, who, while repenting of his impulsive and quixotic offer, feels that he cannot withdraw it, and is prepared to abide by it, regardless of inclination. Going to her writing table, she answered at once. "DEAR COUNT ANGELESCU, "I appreciate fully the kindness and generosity of your offer, but do not feel that I can accept it. I sincerely hope that you will not think of breaking off your career on my account, it would seem to me most unnecessary, as there is no real reason why you should take up the cudgels on my behalf--especially, since I desire you not to. "Thanking you with all my heart for your kindness, "I remain, "Sincerely yours, "RAGNA ANDERSEN." She folded the sheet, put it in an envelope, which she addressed as directed in Angelescu's letter, gummed down the flap, and sealed it. She sat weighing the letter meditatively in her hand, a moment or two before she rang the bell to call Rosa. Did something tell her that she was throwing away her own chance of happiness, and wounding the one heart that could really love and understand her?