How strange and spectral this meeting seemed! She heard his retreating footsteps without the slightest desire to obtain a last glimpse of his figure.

How entirely he had passed out of her life, he who so lately was _all_ her life! The next day Rosa wrote as follows to Madame and the Signor:-- "Dearest and best friends,--It would take days to explain to you all that has happened since I wrote you that long, happy letter; and at present I have not strength to write much.

When we meet we will talk about it more fully, though I wish to avoid the miserable particulars as far as possible.

The preparations I so foolishly supposed were being made for me were for a rich Northern bride,--a pretty, innocent-looking little creature.

The marriage with me, it seems, was counterfeit.