Her impulse was to prevent Aurora from seeing Marcello for a long time, for the thought of a possible marriage had never attracted her, and since the appearance of Regina on the scene every instinct of her nature was against it.  Her pride revolted at the idea that her daughter might be the rival of a peasant girl, quite as much as at the possibility of its being said that she had captured her old friend’s son for the sake of his money.  But she remembered her own younger years and she judged Aurora by herself.  There had been more in that little romantic tenderness for Marcello than any one had guessed, much of it had remained, it had perhaps grown instead of dying out, and the sight of Regina had awakened it to something much stronger than a girlish fancy.

Maddalena remembered little incidents now, of which the importance had escaped her the more easily because the loss of her dearest friend had made her dull and listless at the time.  Aurora had scarcely asked about Marcello during the weeks that followed his disappearance, but she had often looked pale and almost ill just then.  She had been better after the news had come that he had been found, though she had barely said that she was glad to hear of him.  Then she had grown more restless than she used to be, and there had sometimes been a dash of hardness in the things she said; and her mother was now quite sure that Aurora had intentionally avoided all mention of Marcello.  To-day, she had suddenly made that rather startling remark about marrying him.  All this proved clearly enough that he had been continually in her thoughts.  When very young people take unusual pains to ignore a certain subject, and then unexpectedly blurt out some very rough observation about it, the chances are that they have been thinking of nothing else for a long time.

A good deal had happened on that afternoon, for what Corbario had said about Aurora, half playfully and half in earnest, had left Maddalena under the impression that he had been trying a little experiment on his own account, to feel his way.  Aurora had more than once said in the preceding years that she did not like his eyes and a certain way he had of looking at her.  He had admired her, even then, and now that he was a widower it was not at all unlikely that he should think of marrying her.  He was not much more than thirty years old, and he had a singularly youthful face.  There was no objection on the score of his age.  He was rich, at least for his life-time.  He had always been called a model husband while his wife had been alive, and was said to have behaved with propriety since.  Maddalena tried to look at the matter coolly and dispassionately, as if she did not instinctively dislike him.  Why should he not wish to marry Aurora?  No one of the Contessa’s acquaintances would be at all surprised if he did, and most people would say that it was a very good match, and that Aurora was fortunate to get such a husband.