forgiven, and the other that such forgiveness was welcome. The attendants were dismissed; and each, drawing a huge armchair to the blazing hearth, began eagerly to question and reply. A few words gave the general outline of Francesca's history, and Marie was warm in her congratulations.
"A véritable princesse de roman! I must give Madame de Scuderi the story on my return. Dearest Francesca, you are situated as you ought to be; you look your rank. You were superbe as you received us at the entrance. We want nothing but a hero to complete the romance."
Francesca shook her head mournfully, and the conversation flagged a little. Marie seemed to hesitate with some question, which she yet shrunk from asking. At length, holding up her handkerchief, as if to screen her face from the fire, but more to screen it from her companion, she said, in a low uncertain tone, "I do not see him here; has Guido returned to Italy?"
"Italy!" replied Francesca, sadly; "do you not know that he died a few months after our arrival in England?"
She started from her seat in dismay at the violent effects which her words produced. Marie
