"Do not turn from me, Enrica," he softly murmured. "Would you rob me of the rapture of my first embrace?"
There was a passionate tremor in his voice that re vibrated within her from head to foot. Her flushed cheek grew pale as she listened.
"Heavens! how I have longed for you! How I have longed for you sitting at home! And you so near!"
"And I have longed for you," whispered Enrica, blushing again redder than summer roses.—Enrica was too simple to dissemble.—"O Nobili!"—and she raised her dreamy eyes upward to his, then dropped them again before the fire of his glance—"you cannot tell how lonely I have been. Oh! I have suffered so much; I thought I should have died."
"My own Enrica, that is gone and past. Now we shall never part. I have won you for my wife. Even the marchesa must own this. Last night the old life died out as the smoke from that old tower. To-day you have waked to a new life with me."
Again Nobili's arms stole round her; again he sealed the sacrament of love with a fervid kiss.
Enrica trembled from head to foot—a scared look came over her. The rush of passionate joy, coming upon the terrors of the past night, was more than she could bear. Nobili watched the change.
"Forgive me, love," he said, "I will be calmer. Lay your dear head against me. We will sit together here—under the trees."
"Yes," said Enrica in a faltering voice; "I have so much to say." Then, suddenly recalling the blessing of his presence, a smile stole about her bloodless lips. She gave a happy sigh. "Yes, Nobili—we can talk now without fear. But I can talk only of you. I have no thought but you. I never dreamed of such happiness as this! O Nobili!" And she hid her face in the strong arm entwined about her.
"Speak to me, Enrica; I will listen to you forever."