"Love her still!" he cried, with all the impassioned manner of a young Italian. "I tell you it has been desolation to be separated from her all this time; but it was our hard fate, and I have suffered, as she has, poor child. But the thought of seeing her again has comforted me, and I have waited, oh, so patiently, till I could come to her again. Now, tell me, good sister, I must see her--quick--at once." "No," cried Claire, "it is impossible. You must wait." "Wait?--I?--wait?" "Yes," said Claire desperately; and there was so much firmness and decision in her tone that the weak, impassioned young Italian was mastered, and yielded to her will. "Not long, sweet sister, not for long?" "No, not for long," said Claire excitedly. "It is for May's sake. You would not wish to harm her?" "I? Harm her? Heaven! no. I would die for her," cried the young man enthusiastically. "You little think how we love." "Then wait till I have seen, and broken the news to her." "Broken the news, when my arms are throbbing to embrace her once more?" "Go to where you are staying, and wait patiently till you hear from me or from May, arranging for an interview." "Go?--and wait?" "Yes," cried Claire; "for May's sake." "I? Go and wait!" sighed the young man. "Well, it is for her. But the old father? Let me stay and embrace him, and tell him how rich I am, and of my joy. He was always kind to me, even when I was so poor." "Impossible!" cried Claire, trembling for fear that her father should return. "Impossible? Well, I will go. Addio--addio. I shall be at the hotel. You will hasten to her, sweet sister, and tell her my heart has been always filled with her sweet image; that her dear face is in a dozen pictures that I have painted in Rome. You will tell her this?" "Yes, yes," cried Claire desperately. "I will go and tell her you are here." "Addio, cara mia!" he said, as he bent over and tenderly kissed her hands, and then her cheek. "Addio, sweet sister, I am dying till I once more hold her in these arms." Claire led him to the door, as if she were in a dream; and, as she listened to his departing steps, her hands involuntarily clasped her throbbing head, and Isaac confided to his fellow-servants the information that there were strange goings-on in that house, and that when he liked to speak--well, they would see. "What shall I do?" Volume Two, Chapter XXXI. CLAIRE TAKES STEPS: SO DOES MAY. "What shall I do?" The low wild cry of agony that escaped from Claire Denville's breast was heard by none, as she stood motionless, listening to Louis Gravani's steps till they died away. Then, trembling violently in an agony of terror and despair, she rushed up to her bedroom, and threw herself upon her knees, with her hands still clasping her temples.