I will precede you by some days, and arrange everything for your
reception. And then we will be married--in MY way!"
Sylvie said nothing--she merely nestled like a dove in the arms of
her betrothed, and seemed quite content to accept whatever ordinance
he laid down for the ruling of her fate.
"I think you must see Gherardi," he resumed--"Write a line and say
you will be happy to receive him at the hour he appoints."
Sylvie obeyed--and despatched the note at once to the Vatican by her
man-servant.
Aubrey looked at her intently.
"I wonder--Sylvie, I wonder--" he began, and then stopped.
She met his earnest eyes with a smile in her own.
"You wonder what, caro mio?" she enquired.
"I wonder whether you could endure a very great trial--or make a
very great sacrifice for my sake!" he said,--then as he saw her
expression, he took her little hand and kissed it.
"There! Forgive me! Of course you would!--only you look such a
slight thing--such a soft flower of a woman--like a rose-bud to be
worn next the heart always--that it seems difficult to picture you
as an inflexible heroine under trying circumstances. Yet of course
you would be."
"I make no boast, my Aubrey!" she said gently.
He kissed her tenderly,--reverently,--studying her sweet eyes and
delicate colouring with all the fond scrutiny of a love which cannot
tire of the thing it loves.
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