Beatrice walked slowly back under the trees. Ruggiero's quaint talk had
amused her and had momentarily diverted the current of her thoughts. But
the moment she left him, her mind reverted to her immediate trouble, and
she felt a little stab of pain at the heart which was new to her. The
news that San Miniato had actually sent a telegram was unwelcome in the
extreme. He had, indeed, said in her presence that he had sent several.
But that might have been a careless inaccuracy, or he might have
actually written the rest and given them to be despatched before coming
upstairs. To doubt that the one message already sent contained the news
of his engagement, seemed gratuitous. It was only too sure that he had
looked upon what had passed at Tragara as a final decision on the part
of Beatrice, and that henceforth she was his affianced bride. Her mother
had not even found great difficulty in persuading her of the fact, and
after that one bitter struggle she had given up the battle. It had been
bitter indeed while it had lasted, and some of the bitterness returned
upon her now. But she would not again need to force the tears back,
pressing her hands upon her eyes with desperate strength as she had
done.
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