"I am glad I was mistaken," went on Ricordo; "and may I also accept that as your consent to my approaching your father, with a view to my becoming your neighbour?"
"I am sure, if you decide to live here, I hope you will be very happy," said Olive.
"Thank you; you make my sun shine brightly," was the response. "Whether I shall live here much, I cannot tell, for the East always claims the man upon whom it has cast its spell. And it has cast its spell upon me. Yes, some time I must claim your consent to tell you about my life there. I may, may I not?"
Before she realised what she was doing, she had given her consent. The man's presence suggested mysteries which she desired to know.
They had now turned down the hill, and were walking to Vale Linden. She was almost sorry that their walk would so soon come to an end, and she wished that he would tell her something of the past as they walked. But as they neared the village Signor Ricordo became moody and silent, so silent that their walk became almost painful. When they came to the park gates, however, he spoke again.
"It is kind of you to have pity on a lonely man," he said, "ay, and one who is a stranger, grown old before his time."
"Old, signore?" she said, with a laugh that was almost forced.
"Yes, old, signorina. How old should you think?"
She lifted her eyes to his face, and as she looked she felt a shiver pass through her.
"I should not like to hazard a guess," she said.