She had made up her mind that the blow was coming, and that Marcello was only putting off the moment when she must be told that he meant to leave her. She was very quiet, and waited for him to speak again, for she was too proud to ask him questions. His inquiry about Settimia was in some way connected with what was to come. He sat down by the table, and drummed upon it absently with his fingers for a moment. Then he looked up suddenly and met her eyes; his look of troubled preoccupation faded all at once, and he smiled and held out one hand to draw her nearer.
"Forgive me," he said. "All sorts of things have happened to-day. I have been annoyed."
She came and bent over him, turning his face up to hers with her hands, very gently. His eyes lightened slowly, and his lips parted a little.
"You are not tired of Regina yet," she said.
"No!" he laughed. "But you were right," he added, almost immediately.
"I knew I was," she answered, but not as she had expected to say the words when she had seen him come in.
She dared not hope to keep him always, but she had not lost him yet, and that was enough for the moment. The weight had fallen from her heart, and the pain was gone.
"Was it what I thought?" she asked softly. "Does your stepfather wish to separate us?"
"For a little while," Marcello answered. "He says we ought to part for a few weeks, so that I may find out whether I love you enough to marry you!"
"And he almost persuaded you that he was right," said Regina. "Is that what happened?"