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Then, for a space, the vision of sin stood dark in the way, and she turned and fled from it back to Gianluca's side, back to the care of him, back to his helpless love for her, back to his pathetic, stricken restfulness, back to the maiden dreams of a life-long friendship, unbroken as the calm of the summer ocean, perfect as the cloudless sky of those golden autumn days.
She turned from it when she knew that it was there, and fixed her sight upon Gianluca's face. Sometimes she found comfort in that, and she did all that was required of her, and more also, and was glad to do it. But the wrong done to nature was deeper and more real than all the good she could do to hide it, and it cried out against her continually by the voice of the woman's instinct.
Taquisara almost carrying his friend with his right arm, while Veronica steadied him on the other side, till they came out at last into a room which had been furnished as a sort of sitting-room and library, especially for Gianluca's use. He sank down into a deep chair facing the window, and drew breath, as he sought Veronica's eyes. "You are very kind," he said faintly.
Gianluca's eyes opened, and with sudden pressure he grasped the hand that had so long held his, believing because he held it and felt the flesh and blood and the warmth in his own shadowy hold. "Veronica love!" She would not have thought that he could press her fingers so hard, weak as he was.
It had been one thing to praise Gianluca to her, and to press his suit for him; it was quite another to lie in wait for her, as it were, at the end of a drawing-room and to reproach her brutally and angrily with wishing to break Gianluca's heart. As she thought of his eyes, and his face, and his low voice, she grew pale with anger herself, at the mere memory of his insolence.
"He hates strangers," he said, "and I came up with him, to be of use on the journey. I am going back at once." "You will not go back this evening, at all events," answered Veronica, with a little hospitable smile. She was grateful to him for Gianluca's sake, both for his letter and for having accompanied his friend. For what had gone before, he had apologized and was forgiven.
No one has stood in the fire that scorches his brother's soul, to tell us which can suffer the more. Taquisara lay long awake that night, and every word that had passed between Veronica and him came back to his thoughts. More than once he rose and, crossing the intermediate room, went to Gianluca's side.
But there is something, some change something, I cannot tell what it is, since I last saw him." "Stay here please stay in the house!" said Veronica. "He may need you." While she was speaking she had gone to the door, and she went out without looking back. A moment later, she was by Gianluca's side. She saw that what Don Teodoro had said was true.
Still she looked down, thinking, and Taquisara glanced at her occasionally, and respected her silence. "You do not know Bosio Macomer," she said, at last. "Or you know him little. If you chanced to be his friend, instead of Don Gianluca's, you could speak as eloquently for him." "I think not," answered Taquisara. And his lip curled a little, though she did not see the expression. "Why not?
At luncheon, at dinner, whenever the Duca and Duchessa were present, Taquisara did his best to help the conversation and always seemed cheerful, unconcerned, and hopeful for Gianluca's recovery.
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