He thought she referred to the deception that had been practiced in letting him believe that she was Mrs. Howard’s own daughter so long. True to his implied promise to Mrs. Howard, he would not let the girl know that he was disappointed. He took the beautiful, pale face in his hands and kissed the quivering rosebud lips. “Do you think I blame you for being poor, instead of Mrs. Howard’s heiress?” he said reproachfully. “Nonsense, little darling! I love you for yourself alone.” “Oh, Bayard, you are so good to me!” she said gratefully, and she wondered how she was going to make her confession to him, since he forbade her to speak of the past. “But, Bayard,” she began, twisting her white fingers nervously around each other, and growing paler with every syllable, “I--should like--I mean, I think I had better--tell you all about my past life.” “Mrs. Howard has told me all about that, dear little one; there is no need for you to go over it again,” he said tenderly, adding: “Wait until some other time, and I will listen.” And, with a sigh of relief, she accepted the respite, and gladly put off her confession until some other time, giving herself up unrestrainedly to the enjoyment of the present. “I will not think about the past, nor the future. I will be happy in the present, for I have never had any happiness till now,” she thought, with a mist in her tender eyes at thought of the weary, toilsome years of her girlhood, and her mother’s ambition, that had caused such bitter, tragic results. Bayard Lorraine declared very soon that the excitement of his love affair and his absorption in his beautiful betrothed quite prevented him from going on with his literary work. He could not stay away from the Florentine villa--he could not keep out of the presence of Fair long enough to begin a single chapter of the new novel for which his publisher was impatiently waiting. Even if he could have stayed away from her, she would have been constantly in his thoughts. He was in love in the most genuine and romantic fashion, and his love absorbed his whole soul. Augustus Frayne came back from his yachting expedition, and found things just as he had expected when he gave up the field in despair and went away. His merry sisters chaffed him in secret; his father and mother silently sympathized with him, for they had coveted charming Fair for a daughter-in-law, and were disappointed when Bayard Lorraine won the lovely prize. But Augustus bore it like a hero, wished the prospective bride much joy, and congratulated the lucky suitor. Then he began a furious flirtation with a lovely Italian girl at the next villa, walking over there every day, and spending long hours in her company, thus leaving a fair field for Fair’s lover.