"This is kind of you, Signor Marchese. I hoped, ah! how I hoped,
that you would come. If you had not, I don't know what would have
become of me. My heart was already sinking with the dreadful fear
that my little note might have displeased you. But, thank God, you
are here: and that is enough."
"Of course, Bianca, I came when you begged me to do so," said the
Marchese, looking at her with a sort of sad wistfulness, and
retaining both her hands in his. He advanced his face to kiss her,
and she stooped her head so as to permit him to press his lips to
her forehead.
"Was it of course, amore mio?" she said, with a gushing look of
exquisite happiness, and a little movement towards clasping his
hand, which still held hers, to her heart. "Was it of course that
you should come to your own, own Bianca when she begged it? But you
are looking fagged, harassed, troubled, mio bene: have you had
anything to vex you? Henceforward, you know, all that is trouble to
you is trouble to me. I shall insist on sharing your sorrows as well
as your joys, Lamberto. What is it that has annoyed you, amore mio?"
"I have much on my mind--necessarily, Bianca mia; many things that
are not pleasant to think of. Can you not guess as much?"
"I have had but one thought, amico mio, since I heard from your lips
the dear words that told me that henceforward we should be but one;
that our lives, our hopes, our fears, would be the same; that, in
the sight of God and man, you would be my husband, and I your wife.
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