"Never!" groaned from the lips of the poor girl. Her sobs prevented her saying more. But in that one sound spoke out a true vehement avowal of boundless affection. Bianchi's darkened brow brightened. He looked up joyously--turned round and approached her. Beside herself, she rushed towards him, and he received her as she pressed him unconsciously to her arms. He kissed her forehead. "Hush!" he said, "Thou and I--we must collect ourselves. It is now as well as it was, and better. But it cannot remain so. It cannot or I shall be lost. Come!" he said, "make a bundle of your best and favourite things, and what you will want for a journey. Hasten, Caterina. I think that we shall see each other again--but not here. Have patience."
She looked at him with her large eyes. She understood nothing--she anticipated nothing--mechanically she did as he directed her. "Where are we going?" she asked, timidly, when all was ready.
"Come," he said. He extinguished the light. The bird in its cage fluttered eagerly against the wires. The guitar gave out a saddened note as he struck against it in the darkness. Both their hearts beat violently--and so they went.
CHAPTER VI.
Theodore's mind was in a strange state when he left Bianchi's house. As soon as he felt the cool air breathe upon his face, the feeling of depression which so weighed upon him, as he stood before the model, left him at once. Even the secret remorse in the background of his thoughts almost served to intensify his mental clearness, as the shadow does the light.
The former of the two girls passed before his mind's eye, and his heart never faltered for a moment. Yet it was unjust towards the stranger--a feeling of wonder struck through it still, when it recollected all the beauties of that marvellous face. But it beat high and fiercely, when it recollected the time of his first knowing and loving, of his growing passion for Mary. And what had changed in the interim? Had she not remained the same? Truly, delicacy and a feeling of propriety had restrained her in the presence of others. But she had told him, with all the ever-increasing intensity of her whole being--with her eyes, which never moved from him as long as he was near her; with her hands, that were so loth to leave his when he went, that she had utterly and unrestrictedly abandoned her whole existence to him.
"Can I blame in her," he said to himself, "that she sits in awe of her puritanical mother--that she did not break this old bond of reverence at the same moment that she bound herself to me?"
As if he had to confess to her all with which he had these weeks long made his life miserable, he felt constrained to see her. He knew that the English visitors, who had annoyed him so, had left Rome the day before. He felt as if all was now to begin anew. In this state of freshly-awakened happiness he sprang up the steps of the house.
But a few moments before, Miss Betsy had been standing in Mary's chamber, about to take her leave. The girl was seated by the piano, in the shade, with her hands grasping the arms of her chair, as if afraid that she should sink down upon the floor, if she did not support herself.
"Take my advice, child," said the little woman, at the end of a long conversation. "Directly he appears, and without any beating about the bush, tell him that he will only lose time in trying to excuse himself. Do that, Mary--I advise you; he is young enough to grow a better man, if he begins in time. It is scandalous and, dear heart, much as I wish it, I cannot retract a word that I spoke in my first burst of anger. God has, however, brought other sinners to himself before now; if he only had more religion; you must confess that I have often spoken to him about it, and now you see I was right; shame upon him, child, to have no more respect for you! I looked round, fortunately none of your acquaintances were sitting near us, for respectable people do not go into this part of the circus, but into the private boxes, unless, indeed, they want to study the people. But he spoilt the whole play for me; and I cannot forgive him. Dear me! if you had been with me, you would have died upon the spot! Do you think that he took his eyes off her for a moment? And she seemed to know him--an old passion--and that might be some excuse for him; for he has found girls pretty enough before he knew you. But people ought to have some self-respect, at least in public, and pretend not to recognise each other. Well, well, child, when you talk to him seriously and once for all, he will shrink in his shoes; but if you will not do it--willingly as I would spare you--my principles require me to tell it all to your parents, that they may bring him to his senses. It would be too great a disgrace and misfortune for a family like yours to receive such a frivolous person into its circle. Have you never heard of any old Roman flirtation which he gave up on your account?"