had attached very little importance to it.  Her aunt might be miserly, but Veronica, in her youth and health, could not think it even faintly probable that she should die before the elder woman and leave the latter her fortune.  Taquisara’s hasty counsel had therefore fallen in barren ground.  She scouted the idea that Gregorio Macomer had ruined himself in speculations, for she believed him to be a man of extraordinary caution, and probably something of a miser.

Taquisara had therefore not prejudiced her at all against Bosio, nor against the idea of marrying the latter.  And Matilde, as has been said, was quite right in supposing that Veronica would see much in favour of the marriage.

Bosio was distinctly a desirable man for a husband.  Nine women out of ten would have admitted this without hesitation.  The strongest argument against the statement seemed to lie in the fact that there were a few faintly grey streaks in his thick and silky hair.  For the rest, whatever he chose to say of himself, he was still within the limits of what one may call second youth.  He was only between fifteen and sixteen years older than Veronica, and such a difference of age between man and wife does not generally begin to be felt as a disadvantage until the man is nearly sixty.  He was not at all a worn-out dandy, with no illusions, and no constitution to speak of; for circumstances, as well as his own sober tastes, had caused him to lead a quiet and restful life, admirably adapted to his sound but delicately organized nature.  He was decidedly good-looking, especially in a city where beauty is almost the exclusive distinction of the other sex.  His figure, though slightly inclined to stoutness, was still graceful, and he carried himself with a good bearing and a quiet manner, which, might well pass for dignity.  So much for his appearance.  Intellectually, in Veronica’s narrow experience of the world, he was quite beyond comparison with any one she knew.  It is true that she really knew hardly any one.  But her own intelligence enabled her to judge with tolerable fairness of his capacities, and she had found these varied and broadly developed, precisely in the direction of her own tastes.

Lastly, Matilde was right in counting upon the existing intimacy as a factor in the case.  The idea of being suddenly betrothed to marry an almost total stranger was as strongly repugnant to Veronica as it seems to be attractive to most girls of her age and class in Southern Italy.

The fact is, perhaps, that the majority of such young girls learn to think of themselves as being sure to lead hopeless and helpless lives, unless they are married; and as very few of them possess such attractions or advantages as to make it a positive certainty that they can marry well, they grow up with the idea that it is better to take the first chance than to risk waiting for a second, which may never come.  To these, marriage is a very uncertain lottery; and if they draw a prize, they are not easily persuaded to throw it back into fate’s bag, and play for another.  The very element of uncertainty lends excitement to the game, and they readily attribute all sorts of perfections to the imaginary stranger who is to be the partner of their lives.