“I shall praise him no more,” Rowland said.
She turned away quickly, but she lingered still. “Do you remember promising me, soon after we first met, that at the end of six months you would tell me definitely what you thought of me?”
“It was a foolish promise.”
“You gave it. Bear it in mind. I will think of what you have said to me. Farewell.” She stepped into the carriage, and it rolled away. Rowland stood for some minutes, looking after it, and then went his way with a sigh. If this expressed general mistrust, he ought, three days afterward, to have been reassured. He received by the post a note containing these words:—
“I have done it. Begin and respect me!
“—C. L.”
To be perfectly satisfactory, indeed, the note required a commentary. He called that evening upon Roderick, and found one in the information offered him at the door, by the old serving-woman—the startling information that the signorino had gone to Naples.
CHAPTER VIII. Provocation
About a month later, Rowland addressed to his cousin Cecilia a letter of which the following is a portion:—