"Tell me what is the matter," cried the girl, running over to him. "Are you ill?" "Ah!" said Norman. "I wish I could tell you what is the matter. There is more the matter than you know of, dear, and my heart is as heavy as lead." "Why, what ever has happened?" said the girl, and her face grew longer still. "Forgive me, Peronella. I should not have spoken." "You say your heart is heavy as lead. Tell me what is troubling you!" "Oh! a little secret trouble, that is all." "What trouble can be secret between you and me?" "Do not speak of it again, dear. Forget it. I am sorry I hinted that anything was wrong." "You are not deceiving me, Normano? You do not love an English girl?" "No, it is not that." "Then what is it? You must tell me." Norman sat on the table and put his hands on the girl's shoulders. "Well, then, who do you suppose I am?" he asked, with a half-smile. "Why, an Englishman, of course." "An Englishman. But what Englishman? And why should I come to Alsander and live in Alsander?" "But why not? Other Englishmen have come to Alsander." "Yes, but to buy and sell." This crude artifice was quite enough to trouble the wits of Peronella. "It _is_ very strange," she said, musing, "and Cesano said it was strange, but who _are_ you, then, by all the Saints?" "That I cannot tell you, Peronella." "Well, what have you come for if not to buy and sell? Besides," added Peronella, passionately, "I love you, and that is enough. What do I care who you are?" "If your love were deep, perhaps you would care who I was." The saying of this sentence was the worst thing Norman ever did in his life. His conscience haunted him for years and never let him forget those dozen careless words and their cynical hypocrisy. Peronella did not understand him, nor attempt to, but blazed out in a fury, "How dare you come and tell lies and pretend to be what you aren't and deceive us all? It's all lies, you don't care for me one bit, and I am a little fool!" cried Peronella, on the brink of tears and truth. "How have I deceived you?" said Norman, lamely. "You never told me who you were. You come and pretend to be what you are not. You make love to me, and now I see you want to run away." "You never-asked me. I am not running away," said Norman, breathlessly, seeing this card-house toppling. "I ask you now." "Look here," said the hypocrite. "Listen to me and trust me. No, you know I am not lying to you. Look into my eyes and see. I ask just one thing of you. Wait three months and you shall have an answer and know who I am." "Don't tell more lies and talk more nonsense, species of brute," said the girl, savagely. "Ah, Peronella, I wish I were talking nonsense." And the infernal fellow put on an air of sorrow and nobility. "Wait three months," he repeated, "and then see if you want to marry me, or dare to want to marry me," he added with magniloquence, thoroughly ashamed of himself but too deep in the mire to get free.