Taquisara | Page 2

go to relations whom she had never seen and of whom she scarcely
knew the names. This, the Countess Macomer had insisted, would be a
terrible misfortune, and as human life was uncertain, even when one
was very young, it was the duty of Veronica to provide against it, by
leaving everything to the one remaining member of the Serra family

who, with herself, represented the direct line, who had taken a mother's
place and duties in bringing up the orphan girl, and who had been ready
to sacrifice every personal consideration for the sake of the child's
welfare.
Veronica did not see clearly that the Countess Macomer had ever really
sacrificed anything at all in the execution of her trust as guardian, any
more than the count himself, who, with Cardinal Campodonico, was a
joint trustee, had ever been put to any inconvenience, beyond that of
being the uncle by marriage of one of the richest heiresses in Italy. It
was natural that when she had signed the will at last, she should receive
her aunt's effusive thanks rather coldly, and that she should show very
little enthusiasm when her uncle kissed her forehead and expressed his
appreciation of her loving intention. The plain truth was that if she had
refused any longer to sign the will, the two would have made her life
even more unbearable than it was already.
She knew that there was no reason why her life should be made hard to
bear. She was not only rich, and a princess in her own right. She was
young and, if not pretty, at least fairly well endowed with those gifts
which attract and please, and bring their possessor the daily little
satisfactions that make something very like happiness, before passion
throws its load into the scales of life on the right side or the wrong. She
knew that, at her age, she might have been married already, and she
wondered that her aunt should not have proposed to marry her before
now. Yet in this she was not displeased, for her best friend, Bianca
Campodonico, had been married two years already to Corleone, of evil
fame, and was desperately unhappy. Veronica dreaded a like fate, and
was in no haste to find a husband. The countess told her always that she
should be free to choose one for herself within reasonable limits of age,
name, and fortune. Such an heiress, with such a fortune, said Matilde
Macomer, could marry whom she pleased. But so far as Veronica had
been allowed to see the world, the choice seemed anything but large.
The count and countess had always been very careful in the selection of
their intimate associates--they could hardly be said to have any intimate
friends. Since Veronica had come to them from the convent in Rome,

where she had been educated according to her dead father's desire, they
had been doubly cautious and trebly particular as to the persons they
chose to receive. Their responsibility, they said openly, was very great.
The child's happiness, was wholly in their hands. They would be held
accountable if she should form an unfortunate attachment for some
ineligible young man who might chance to dine at their table. The
responsibility, they repeated with emphasis, was truly enormous. It was
also an unfortunate fact that in their Neapolitan society there were
many young men, princes and dukes by the score, who had nothing but
their names and titles to recommend them, and who would have found
it very hard to keep body and title together, so to say, if gambling had
suddenly been abolished, or had gone out of fashion unexpectedly.
Then, too, the Macomer couple had always led a retired life and had
kept aloof from the very gay portion of society. They lived well,
according to their station, and so far as any one could see; but it had
always been said that Gregorio Macomer was miserly. At the same
time it suited his wife, for reasons of her own, not to be conspicuous in
the world, and she encouraged him to lead a quiet existence, spending
half the year in the country, and receiving very few people when in
Naples during the winter and spring. Gregorio had one brother, Bosio,
considerably younger than himself and very different in character, who
was not married and who lived at the Palazzo Macomer, on excellent
terms both with Gregorio and the countess, as well as with Veronica
herself. The young girl was inclined to like him, though she felt dimly
that she could never understand him as she believed that she
understood her aunt and uncle. He was, indeed, almost the only man,
excepting her uncle, whom she could be said to know tolerably well.
He was not present on that afternoon