"It is true!" she exclaimed with sudden emphasis. "He is rough and ill-mannered; I have seen him the worse for wine, sometimes he is insufferable! I am afraid of him!"
I glanced at her quietly. Her face had paled, and her hands, which were busied with some silken embroidery, trembled a little.
"In that case," I continued, slowly, "though I am sorry for Ferrari, poor fellow! he will be immensely disappointed! I confess I am glad in other respects, because--"
"Because what?" she demanded, eagerly. "Why," I answered, feigning a little embarrassment, "because there will be more chance for other men who may seek to possess the hand of the accomplished and beautiful Contessa Romani."
She shook her fair head slightly. A transient expression of disappointment passed over her features.
"The 'other men' you speak of, conte, are not likely to indulge in such an ambition," she said, with a faint sigh; "more especially," and her eyes flashed indignantly, "since Signor Ferrari thinks it his duty to mount guard over me. I suppose he wishes to keep me for himself--a most impertinent and foolish notion! There is only one thing to do--I shall leave Naples before he returns."
"Why?" I asked.
She flushed deeply. "I wish to avoid him," she said, after a little pause; "I tell you frankly, he has lately given me much cause for annoyance. I will not be persecuted by his attentions; and as I before said to you, I am often afraid of him. Under YOUR protection I know I am quite safe, but I cannot always enjoy that--"
The moment had come. I advanced a step or two.
"Why not?" I said. "It rests entirely with yourself."
She started and half rose from her chair--her work dropped from her hands.
"What do you mean, conte?" she faltered, half timidly, yet anxiously; "I do not understand!"
"I mean what I say," I continued in cool hard tones, and stooping, I picked up her work and restored it to her; "but pray do not excite yourself! You say you cannot always enjoy my protection; it seems to me that you can--by becoming my wife."
"Conte!" she stammered. I held up my hand as a sign to her to be silent.
"I am perfectly aware," I went on in business-like accents--"of the disparity in years that exists between us. I have neither youth, health, or good looks to recommend me to you. Trouble and bitter disappointment have made me what I am. But I have wealth which is almost inexhaustible--I have position and influence--and beside these things"--and here I looked at her steadily, "I have an ardent desire to do justice to your admirable qualities, and to give you all you deserve. If you think you could be happy with me, speak frankly--I cannot offer you the passionate adoration of a young man--my blood is cold and my pulse is slow--but what I CAN do, I will!"