Thus she overdid it altogether, and more than ever confirmed Girasole in the opinion that she and Hawbury were affianced.
Two days after this Girasole called again.
A bitter disappointment was in store for him.
They were not there--they had gone.
Eagerly he inquired where.
"To Rome," was the reply.
[Illustration: "'TO ROME!' HE MUTTERED, BETWEEN HIS SET TEETH."] "To Rome!" he muttered, between his set teeth; and mounting his horse hurriedly, he rode away.
He was not one to be daunted.

He had set a certain task before himself, and could not easily be turned aside.

He thought bitterly of the ingratitude with which he had been treated.

He brought before his mind the "stony British stare," the supercilious smile, and the impertinent and insulting expression of Hawbury's face as he sat on his saddle, with his chin up, stroking his whiskers, and surveyed him for the first time.

All these things combined to stimulate the hate as well as the love of Girasole.