"I wonder if she is engaged to that superb
man; I fancied I had seen him before. Why, Mae, what in the world are
you blushing at?" For Mae's face was scarlet. "Why, nothing," replied
Mae, redder yet; "nothing at all. What do you mean?"
The same thought occurred to Edith and Albert. The officer was Mae's
chance acquaintance. They both looked grave, and Albert remarked: "It is
as well to be careful before getting up too sudden an acquaintance with
your Italian girl. Take care of your eyes."
"Has it come to this?" cried Mae, half jestingly, half bitterly. "Are
nor my very eyes my own? I shall feel, Albert, as if you were trying to
bind me in that chain you threatened," and Mae started: her fingers had
felt another scrap of paper among the flowers, but she did not drop it
from the carriage, as her first impulse was; she held it tight and close
in her warm right hand until she was fairly at home and safe in her own
room. Then she opened and read in an Italian hand, "To my little Queen
of the Carnival.
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