"And this to _you_?" said she, with a quivering lip, as she gazed
earnestly into the face of her friend.

"Yes, Florence, that to _me_."

"Can I trust my own senses? Is there not some illusion? Let me look
at it again."

And Florence stooped for the letter, and fixed her eyes upon it once
more. The language was plain, and the handwriting she knew too well.

"False-hearted!" she murmured, in a low and mournful voice, covering
her face and sobbing.

"Yes, Florence," said her friend, "he is false-hearted. How thankful
am I that you have escaped! Evidently in revenge for your prudent
deliberation, he has sought an alliance with another. Had that other
one accepted his heartless proposal, he would have met your
favourable answer to his suit with insult."

For a long time, Florence wept on the bosom of her friend. Then her
feelings grew calmer, and her mind became clear.

"What an escape!" fell from her lips as she raised her head and
turned her still pale face toward Carlotti. "Thanks, my wiser
friend, for your timely, yet gentle warning! Your eyes saw deeper
than mine."

"Yes, yes; you have made an escape!" said Carlotti. "With such a
man, your life could only have been wretched."