Violante might lose, if she married one like Randal himself--her marriage
with the heir of the Lansmeres might actually tend only to secure. Could
Harley, with all his own expectations, be indifferent to such a prize?--
and no doubt he had learned Violante's rare beauty in his correspondence
with Riccabocca.

Thus considered, it seemed natural to Randal's estimate of human nature
that Harley's more prudish scruples of honour, as regards what is due to
women, could not resist a temptation so strong. Mere friendship was not
a motive powerful enough to shake them, but ambition was.

While Randal was thus cogitating, Frank thus suffering, and many a
whisper, in comment on the evident flirtation between the beautiful
hostess and the accomplished guest, reached the ears both of the brooding
schemer and the jealous lover, the conversation between the two objects
of remark and gossip had taken a new turn. Indeed, Beatrice had made an
effort to change it.

"It is long, my Lord," said she, still speaking Italian, "since I have
heard sentiments like those you address to me; and if I do not feel
myself wholly unworthy of them, it is from the pleasure I have felt in
reading sentiments equally foreign to the language of the world in which
I live." She took a book from the table as she spoke: "Have you seen
this work?"

Harley glanced at the title-page. "To be sure I have, and I know the
author."

"I envy you that honour. I should so like also to know one who has
discovered to me deeps in my own heart which I had never explored."