“Forbear!  Do not cross that threshold tonight!  Villani, I have seen him this very evening—­he sat so near I might almost have touched him-so near, and yet not a thought that I was more to him than any other of that crowd!  Bear with me for this night-I must be alone.”

“It shall be as you wish—­I will speak of what brought me here some other time, perhaps to-morrow.”

“To-morrow let it be then.”

Presently Teresa became calmer, yet through the remainder of the night she sat by the open casement without motion or apparent life, thinking over bitter memories without a gleam of hope to illumine the future.

After Teresa’s first agitation had subsided, the stranger’s presence seemed to exert a most powerful and calming influence upon her mind.  He was seldom absent at her performances, and it seemed to give her an increase of strength as well as happiness; she always received some token of his delight, and many said the Duke di Castiglioni-so he was called-had a very superior taste, and wondered what would come of it.  Villani had exacted a promise from Teresa, that she would not permit an introduction to him, and shortly after left the city for a few weeks.

Teresa felt relieved by his absence, although they were no longer enemies, and her mode of life was unchanged.  Nearly a fortnight had elapsed, when another incident occurred that changed the whole future of her life.  One evening Teresa eagerly sought the familiar face of the foreign nobleman, but in vain, and a disappointed look replaced the smile; but presently he entered the accustomed place, followed by a young man of aristocratic bearing, but no likeness bespoke them to be father and son.  Teresa turned pale as marble, but a tear started to her eye as she observed the complete friendship and affection that evidently existed between them, and a thrill of anguish shot through her heart, as she murmured, while her eyes met the young stranger’s gaze—­“So near-yet so distant!” Several times in the course of the evening she fancied a look of recognition passed over his face, and once, when he touched his companion’s arm, her heart leaped to her mouth, but in an instant, perceiving they both glanced at some one on the opposite side of the house, she smiled bitterly, and thought—­“How should they know me, in this place, and so altered!”

Late that night when the city was wrapped in slumber, a lamp burned brightly in Teresa’s chamber, and a figure paced wildly up and down with clasped hands and floating hair.  At last the restless girl stopped and exclaimed: 

“If I am wrong, Heaven help me-but this agony is killing me!  If I sin, I am sinned against, and God judge between us, Villani!”

Then hurriedly, as though fearful her resolution would falter, Teresa drew her writing-desk towards her, and wrote a note so rapidly, and with so unsteady a hand, that there was little resemblance to her usual writing, and then sought for sleep-but in vain-and at the earliest possible hour she despatched a messenger with the note.