The Abbess averted her face and took up her beads, and the Count was left standing by the window to arrange the coming conversation as best he might. A light step was soon heard, and Mildred Pemberton came in, looking lovelier in the simple conventual garb than ever she had done with all the aids of dress; the folds only fastened in at the waist, suited her childish figure. The pure white of the veil was scarcely to be discerned from the pure white of the skin; the single braid of gold on either side her forehead betrayed how rich the hair was that lay concealed—and the small features gave something of the innocence of infancy to her face; a bright blush crimsoned her face as she entered, too shy to extend the little hand to her lover which trembled at her side.
"My angel," said the Count, dropping on one knee, "I have seen your father this morning." Mildred turned deadly pale. "Do not fear—I will give up everything, even yourself, rather than make you wretched. He has threatened our union with his curse. Thus I prevent its falling on you, Mildred—I renounce all claim upon you—I will leave Rome to-night."
Mildred stood white and speechless. A woman whose lover resigns her, and as if for her own sake, though without consulting her, is placed in a most awkward situation. What can she do? Take him at his word? That is easy to say, but hard to do, when all the hopes and affections are garnered in his love. The Superior saw her painful position, and addressed the gentleman.
"You have forgotten to mention, Count Arrezi, that Miss Pemberton will in future receive only the hundred a-year that she inherits from her aunt."
The colour came back to Mildred's cheek and lips; she sought to meet her lover's eye, but it avoided her own. With a woman's quick instinct, where the feelings are concerned, she saw his motives. With a degree of dignity of which her slight form had scarcely seemed capable, she turned calmly to the Abbess, and said,
"Have I your permission that the Count Arrezi will leave us together? It seems to me unnecessary to prolong our last interview."
The Count approached, and began some hurried sentences of good wishes, devotion, sacrifice of his own happiness, &c.; but she interrupted him almost sternly—
"I have but one favour to ask, which is, that you will leave me, and at once."
Glad to have been released on such easy terms, for he had expected prayers, tears, and reproaches, Arrezi instantly obeyed. The door closed after him, and Mildred dropped senseless on the floor. The Abbess called for no assistance, she pitied the agony of the moment too much, to let it be observed. She raised the youthful sufferer in her arms, and bathed her face with essence, and when Mildred recovered, her head rested on the shoulder of the Superior, who was watching her with the tenderness of a mother. "These are the trials, my child, which make us turn to heaven. The holy Madonna keep you!" This was her only remark, and Mildred went to her cell.
It was fortunate for her that her health gave way beneath so much excitement—the body sometimes saves the mind. Next day she was too ill to move, and it was weeks before the fever left her. Of all things time can the least be measured by space. Years, or the effects
