Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. Indeed, if he had been ignorant of it, the sound of voices which he could faintly distinguish, would have served as a caution to him. This done, she waited at the side of the bed; but he gave no sign that he was conscious of her nearness. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. ’ She bit her lip, and then turning her face away, emitted another sigh. Promise me one thing before I leave you. . Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua.
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