"Your faith is womanly, sublime, but--misplaced. He will never return. He has left you forever. Think no more of him. There is one who loves you a thousand times more deeply than Captain Willard ever did; compared with mine, his love was but as ice. Ah, Daphne! say that you will be mine. I will gladly wait years for you, content to hold a second place in your affections, if in the event of Captain Willard's non-return you will offer me a little hope." "Mr. Vasari, it cannot be, even if George were never to return. Be he living or dead, I will remain faithful to his memory." My mental gloom increased as I listened to these firmly spoken words. Daphne little thought she was wounding two hearts by her remarks. "Daphne, I would not hurt your feelings, but have you never considered that Captain Willard may have left you for another? If I could show you that this is the case, would you still remain faithful to his memory? Will you not rather show your scorn of him by listening to another lover--me?" There was little in Angelo's remarks to suggest the reminiscence, and yet by some inexplicable mental process I found my mind reverting to the episode of the veiled lady. Daphne's cheek grew white and her lip quivered at the idea suggested by the Italian, but she replied proudly: "I will never believe that he was faithless." "If I could prove that he left you for another--" began the artist. It was now Daphne's turn to become the suppliant. "Oh, why do you say this? You talk as if you knew something of him. If you have any knowledge of him, tell me, for pity's sake! Do you know where he is?" "First, my question requires an answer. If I could prove that he left you for another, what would be your answer to me then?" In the interval that elapsed between the question and the reply I could have counted sixty. The deep silence was broken only by the ripple of the fountain. I almost thought I could hear her heart beating against her breast. But the question must be answered, and drawing her dress around her with a grace which charmed while it maddened the artist, and raising her head with the proud dignity of a queen, she replied: "Since you force me to speak out, and are determined to have an answer from me, listen to it. I do not love you, and--forgive me if my words seem harsh; better a cold truth than a sweet falsehood--it is better that you should know now, once and for all, I could never love you--never, _never_, NEVER!" There could be no mistaking the meaning of those cold, deliberate words. It pained her to say them, and I believe she would have burst into a flood of tears; but she repressed her emotion, lest it should encourage Angelo to a more earnest persistency of his suit.