"Mistare—Mistare Frost."

"Mr. Frost! Well—yes; let Mr. Frost
come up-stairs. Give me the eau-de-
cologne. Draw that curtain a little more.
No light, no light! Ah, Dio buono, how
my head throbs!"

In another minute Mr. Frost was ushered
into the boudoir.

"Have I the honour of speaking to the
Princess de' Barletti?" asked Mr. Frost, to
whom the gloom of the chamber seemed at
first almost pitch darkness.

Veronica greeted him, and told him where
to find a seat. She half rose from her sofa,
but fell back again with a murmur of pain.

"You are suffering? I grieve to intrude.
But my business is of such importance—"

"Of such importance?"

"To me of the very deepest."

Veronica poured some eau-de-cologne on
her hands, and passed them over her forehead.
Then she looked steadily at Mr.
Frost, and her eyes, more accustomed to
the dimness than his, could perceive that
he was changed; bent, and thin, and haggard.
And that his restless hands wandered
constantly to his mouth, and that he
bit his nails furiously. He, for his part,
could but just discern the outline of her
face and figure.

"Madam," said Mr. Frost, "I will not
waste your time or my own—minutes are
very precious—by useless preamble. In
preferring the request I am about to make,
I know that I am doing an unusual—some
might say unwarrantable thing. But I am
hard pressed: temporarily—only temporarily.
And I was to-day inspired suddenly
with the hope that you might help
me."

"In what way can it be in my power to
help you?" said Veronica, in a strange,
dreamy voice.

"Will you lend me some money?"

"Lend you some money? I thought
you were very rich!"

"I shall be. I am, virtually. But there is
a temporary pressure; a severe pressure."
Mr. Frost put his hand to his head, as
though the pressure he spoke of were there.
"I will be frank with you. Women can
be compassionate and generous sometimes.
If you will lend me the sum I want, you
will save me from ruin!"

"From ruin!" Veronica made an effort,
and seemed to rouse herself from a lethargy
that had apparently benumbed her faculties.
Her voice was more like her own as she
said, "But can I do this?"

"I think you can. The sum I need is a
large one. But I know your means are
large. I want two thousand pounds."

"It is indeed a large sum!"

"If I can have that sum by the end of
this month, the rest may go. I shall not
care. That is—I mean I shall be safe."

"I should like to do good to somebody,"
murmured Veronica, half aloud.

"You can do good to more than one
person. You know young Lockwood, who
is engaged to marry Maud Desmond?"

"Yes: is it for him?"

"You love Maud Desmond, do you not?
I have heard that you loved her so much
as to offer her a part of your fortune!"

"I do love her. But what——"

"I cannot explain particulars. But I
will swear to you by any solemn oath
you choose, that in lending me this money
you will be serving them. If I cannot
induce you to believe that—believe at least
that as I said, you will be saving me from
ruin. God is my witness that that is true!"

The manner of the man—so different
from the self-possessed, easy, dignified air
she remembered in him—impressed her
greatly.

"I should like," she said again, "to do
good to somebody."

Mr. Frost gathered all his energies to
plead his cause. His words were eloquent.
But more eloquent to Veronica were his
trembling lips, his wrinkled brow, his eager
and restless hands.

"If I can do this thing I will," she said
at length.

He sprang up and took her hand. "I
cannot thank you in words," he said. "It
was a good inspiration that made me think
of applying to you!"

"But—I shall need my husband's
consent."

"Your husband's only?"

"Certainly. Whose else?"

"You have no marriage settlement? No
trustees?"

This was the first time that the idea of
having her money settled on herself had
occurred to her. Her marriage had been
hurried and private. There had been no
one to watch her interests or advise her.
And, lest it should be supposed that Cesare
had purposely taken a dishonourable
advantage of her confidence or imprudence,
it must be explained that marriage settlements
are unknown in his country; and
that he was too ignorant of English
customs to be aware of their existence here.

"No," she answered, after a moment's
pause. "I have no settlement; no trustees.
I have no one but Cesare."