He hesitated. His eyes were riveted upon her. The sun-shutters were closed, the glare of day subdued, and he was debating whether or not he should relate to her in that dim half-light all that had been told him an hour ago. In those brief moments of silence he remembered how, on the afternoon he had encountered Tristram at Pancaldi's, she had expressed surprise that he should love her so blindly, without seeking to inquire into her past. He remembered his foolish reply. He had told her he wished to know nothing. If he demanded any explanation now, it would convince her that he doubted. Yes, Hutchinson's advice was best. At present he must act diplomatically, and remain silent. "The reason why I am not myself to-day is because I must leave you, Gemma," he said slowly at last, in a low, earnest voice. "Leave me!" she gasped, starting and turning pale beneath her veil. "Yes," he replied quickly. "It is imperative that I should start for Paris to-night." "Has my Nino had bad news this morning?" she asked in a sympathetic tone, bending and extending her hand until it touched his. Its contact thrilled him. In her clear blue eyes he could distinguish the light of unshed tears. "Yes," he answered--"news which makes it necessary that I should be in Paris at the earliest possible moment." "And how long shall you remain?" she inquired. "I shall not return to Italy," he replied decisively, his eyes still upon hers. "You will not come back to me?" she cried blankly. "What have I done, Nino? Tell me, what have I done that you should thus forsake me?" "I do not intend to forsake you," he answered, grasping her hand. "I will never forsake you; I love you far too well." "You love me!" she echoed, tears coursing down her cheeks. "Then why go away and leave me alone? You must have seen how fondly I love you in return." "I shall not go alone," he answered her, rising and placing his arms tenderly about her neck. "That is, if you will go with me." "With you?" she exclaimed, her face suddenly brightening. "With you, Nino?" There was a deep silence. She gazed into his dark, serious eyes with an expression of love and devotion more eloquent than words; and he, still holding her hand, bent until their lips met in a fierce, passionate caress. "Surely you do not fear to travel with me without regard for the _convenances_?" he said. "Have we not already set them at naught?" she answered, looking earnestly into his face. "Unfortunately, I have no _chaperone_, no friends; therefore, according to Italian manners, your presence here in my house is against all the laws of etiquette;" and she laughed a strange, hollow laugh through her tears. "We can, I think, Gemma, set aside etiquette, loving each other as we do!" he exclaimed, pressing her hand. "Let us go together to London, and there marry." "Why not marry in Italy?" she suggested, after a pause. "Marriage at your British Consulate is binding."