“‘What do you mean, Mr. Anglesea?’ I exclaimed, anxiously.
“‘Ah, madame!’ he sighed. ‘You know so little of the world! So little of the world!’
“‘Mr. Anglesea, you distress me. Has anything happened to Saviola?’
“‘Ah, madame, you were but a child when you went off to marry the Italian. I—knowing full well that I could not prevent that mad act which was sure to take place—went with you, for your sake, for your brother, my friend’s sake, to prevent any fatal error from being committed. I thought I had prevented calamity to you. I know better now. Ah, yes!’
“‘Mr. Anglesea,’ I said, ‘you frighten me. What has happened? I implore you to tell me.’
“‘Not now! I cannot! But do not be alarmed! Take courage! I am your friend! I will see you through this trouble.’
“‘No! you must tell me—now! Has—has—has——’ I could scarcely bear to put the question; but I nerved myself to do it. ‘Has Luigi left me—deserted me?’ And I sank back and covered my burning face with my hands.
“‘How shall I answer your question, madame? But put the question rather to your own intelligence. He left here six weeks ago. He has not returned or written to you since. Any one less youthful, innocent and inexperienced than yourself would draw inferences from these circumstances. Will you excuse me now? I will see you this evening. May I?’
“‘Yes,’ I answered, mechanically.
“He bowed and left the room.