The fatherless and motherless girl had been purposely kept from all
outside influences by Gregorio and Matilde, in order that they might
control her disposition for their own interests. She had been taught to
expect that in due time they would select a husband for her from the men
who might offer themselves, and that it would be more or less her duty
to accept their decision, as being really the best for her own
happiness. They had hindered her from forming friendships with girls of
her own age, and altogether from acquaintanceship with young married
women, excepting Bianca Corleone, who had been her friend in the
convent. In society, when she went with them, men were introduced to her
very rarely. Bosio had been present once or twice on such occasions, and
he remembered having seen her with Gianluca. It had been very much as
Taquisara had described it to Gianluca himself--a mere exchange of a few
words, while the girl watched her aunt almost all the time with a sort
of childish fear of doing something not quite right. Veronica could not
be said to know any man to the extent of exchanging ideas with him,
except her uncle and Bosio himself. And she liked Bosio very much. It
was not at all improbable, considering all the circumstances, that she
might be delighted with the idea of marrying him, merely because she
liked him, and he was familiar in her daily life. Bosio knew that
Matilde would speak to her about it at once; and when he tried to think
what he should do if Veronica readily accepted the proposition, the pain
in his head grew intolerable, and he found it impossible to think
connectedly. The horrible dishonour of it stared him in the face--and
beyond the dishonour, still more fearfully imposing, rose the vision of
sure disgrace and infamy for the woman he loved, if he himself refused
to do this vile deed.

He looked ill, worn out with mental distress and physical exhaustion,
when Taquisara entered the room, and the servant closed the door. The