He pressed her hand with more than usual tenderness as he spoke, and
shortly afterwards left the house.

And all that night Helen felt like a guilty thing,--more wretched even
than Violante.




CHAPTER V.

Early the next morning, while Violante was still in her room, a letter
addressed to her came by the post. The direction was in a strange hand.
She opened it, and read, in Italian, what is thus translated:--

I would gladly see you, but I cannot call openly at the house in
which you live. Perhaps I may have it in my power to arrange family
dissensions,--to repair any wrongs your father may have sustained.
Perhaps I may be enabled to render yourself an essential service.
But for all this it is necessary that we should meet and confer
frankly. Meanwhile time presses, delay is forbidden. Will you meet
me, an hour after noon, in the lane, just outside the private gate
of your gardens? I shall be alone, and you cannot fear to meet one
of your own sex, and a kinswoman. Ah, I so desire to see you!
Come, I beseech you.

BEATRICE.

Violante read, and her decision was taken. She was naturally fearless,