Castiglione sat waiting for his answer. Would she tell him that he might come back and live near her? Or would she grow hard and cold once more, and bid him go away again, and for ever?
After a long time she raised her head and looked at him quietly.
‘I cannot answer you at once,’ she said; ‘but I promise that I will. You said yesterday that you had a fortnight’s leave. When I have made up my mind what to do I shall let you know, and you must come and see me again.’
Castiglione shook his head gravely and said nothing.
‘What is the matter?’ asked Maria.
‘I suppose you are going to ask advice of your confessor,’ he answered very sadly, and not at all in contempt.
But Maria lifted her head proudly.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I am going to ask myself what is right. And in my thoughts my child shall be the man I hope to make him, and I will ask him what is honourable.’
‘Will you not trust me for that?’ Castiglione asked, and his face lightened.