"We will sail for Europe. A palace, in Florence, my love, or in Venice, or some delightful nook of Sicily, where, apart from the world, in an atmosphere like heaven, we can live for each other. What say you to this, Joanna?"
"But you forget," she faltered, "the recent circumstance,——" her face became flushed, and then deathly pale.
"Can you live under your father's eye after what has happened?" he whispered.—"Think of it,—he will loathe the sight of you, and make your life a hell!"
"He will indeed,"—and she dropped her head upon her proud bosom.
"And your brother,—does he not thirst for my blood?"
"Ah! does he?" she cried, with a look of alarm.
"And yet, Joanna, I was forced into it. I did all I could to avoid it. I even apologized on the ground, and offered to make reparation."
"You offered to make reparation?" she cried, "that was, indeed, noble!" and an indescribable smile lighted her features.
"Joanna, dear, I have suffered so much to-day, that I am really faint. A glass of that old Tokay, if you please, my love."
She answered him with a smile, and rising from the sofa, passed into the darkness of the second parlor, separated from the first by folding-doors.