‘Is he not rightly called Jacob?’ muttered he, in his wrath, recalling half-forgotten words which seemed now to burn themselves into his very brain. ‘First he takes away my birthright, and now he takes away my blessing also.’ Roma was in the garden, singing softly to herself. She sang because she was happy, though why she was so, she did not pause to ask herself. ‘Marco!’ The word seemed to escape her unawares, and her face brightened into a beautiful smile as she saw him. ‘Roma!’ He had seen the look upon her face, and now he strode forward and seized her hands. ‘Roma,’ he said abruptly, ‘I love you, and you know it. Do you love me?’ He was in earnest now, so much in earnest that all weakness and hesitancy had fled in a moment. He was stronger than she at the present moment, and his earnestness compelled her to answer, and to answer truly. For a moment the nominal pledge that bound her was forgotten. Roma knew that she was really free, and that she had given her heart to this stranger. ‘Yes, Marco,’ she answered, lifting her dark eyes fearlessly to his, ‘I love you.’ ‘My darling—my Roma!’ He drew her towards him, and she did not repulse him. Everything was for a brief space buried in oblivion, save the one all-important revelation that they loved one another. Phil was the first to recover himself. After one pause of forgetfulness memory returned. ‘Roma,’ he said, ‘I cannot believe my own happiness. I have won you in a moment of profound despair, just when I had heard from your father’s lips that you were the promised bride of another. How has he made so great an error?’ The light died suddenly out of Roma’s face, and her arms fell to her sides. ‘I had forgotten,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Forgotten what?’ ‘That I am not free—yet.’ ‘Not free! Roma! Roma! And you have said that you love me!’ ‘I do love you, Marco. I cannot take back words I have spoken; but I had no right to speak them.’ ‘No right!’ ‘No; you know why—my father has told you.’ ‘You are betrothed to—Philip Debenham?’ She bent her head in a voiceless assent. ‘Roma!’ he cried, with pain and indignation in his tone, ‘have you pledged your hand without your heart? or do you love this man?’ ‘You know I do not,’ she answered proudly; ‘I have told you whom I love.’ His face softened instantly. ‘Forgive me, Roma. I should not have spoken so; but indeed you gave me cause. Let us come to your father now, and tell him all. Tell him you pledged yourself before you knew your own heart. We will kneel to him to grant what we ask, and to bless our love.’ But Roma shrank back with a frightened look. ‘Oh no, no! Indeed you must not. It would kill him!’ ‘Kill him! He cannot care so very much.’ ‘He does! he does! Oh, Marco! you must have patience. If you cannot wait till I bid you speak, we must part now and for ever. I can die myself, but I cannot, I cannot give him such pain!’ Phil gazed at her in amazement.