My goodness gracious! It's been ages since I've updated! I am so very, very sorry to all my wonderful readers and exceptional reviewers. I'm applying to college and I'm so busyyyyyyyy! It's horrible and I'm so awfully, awfully sorry. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and, more importantly, has an excellent Thanksgiving.

Time went on. Weeks passed and became months. The first of these weeks were complete misery for Morena. She began work in earnest at the opera. She saw Rodrigo every day. He saw Bendetta more and more frequently, until his daily visits at Morena's flat became biweekly at best. Morena got to know her as well and found that, under other circumstances, she would have quite liked her. As it was, they could only be pleasant acquaintances. Rodrigo remained rough and hard when he was working, though still a far cry from the way he was when she first met him. At that time she was terrified when he instructed her but terror hd been a familiar feeling and she managed to push it to the back of her mind and let admiration and gratitude dominate her feelings. Now his roughness made her nervous and aggravated with herself. These emotions too she managed to hide, but not without rebuking herself constantly: "Why can't you keep better tempo?", "Why can't you sight read better?", and occasionally, "Why does everyone tell you your so talented? You're a sorry excuse for an artist."

Nevertheless, time is a powerful and experienced doctor. Morena learned to live with the pain of her situation until she managed to put it towards the back of her mind and begin again to enjoy their friendship. This is not to say that our heroine "got over" her mentor, but rather she adapted to the pain and loneliness of her situation not comfortably, but tolerably.

So, a year, several pounds heavier thanks to better eating habits, and still infinitely happier than when she first met him, she was madly and truly in love with him and not only managed to hide it but managed to live with it. She learned to be satisfied with their friendship, knowing it was far better than many would ever experience.

Meanwhile she continued to be a success in Parissinia, both on the stage and in social circles. The young Count di Narca, especially, she found to be a very good friend. He was ever smiling, ever attentive, ever ready to offer his arm, and a frequent caller to her little flat. She appreciated his friendship enormously, but prayed to heaven all he wanted was friendship because already she decided that if she could never have Rodrigo she would never have anyone.

So time went on as it always will. Morena corresponded with her brother steadily and he kept her informed of all the happenings in their family and in Colista. He was doing well himself and had even made a new friend; a lady friend. He did not say so outright but Morena could read between her dear brother's lines. They were both young and he knew it, but Morena wished him more luck than she had when the time came. Most of his letters were merely chatty, with little news to communicate. But in early October he sent news Morena was not, and never would be, prepared for. He sent this news entirely without warning, but Morena knew something was amiss when she saw his letter was only one sheet long. Normally he wrote long, glorious letters that would keep her occupied for the better part of an hour. But this one was short, urgent, to the point.

My Dearest Sister,

The news I must communicate to you is not good news. I wish I did not have to. I especially wish it were not so abrupt. Forgive me for not giving you warning but please understand that I had none myself, now that I have my own flat near the docks. You see, mother has remarried. Her milliner's shop has been doing increasingly well and she attracts some wealthy clientele. One was a merchant by the name of Origo passing through the area, looking for a gift for his daughters three months ago. He kept coming back and buying more hats for every female he knew, and some, I'm convinced, he made up. Last week he asked her for her hand and they were married quickly and quietly. I had no idea of this man's existence until very recently, and then I knew of him only as one of mother's clients. It would not be so bad if it were not so abrupt, nor if this man seemed to have any goodness in him, if he did not seem so disgusted by our brothers and sisters, nor if I had any reason to believe that mother has even a little affection for this man. But mother has become so greedy and I know she agreed only for his purse. He seems infatuated with her, but we both know that infatuation does not last. His daughters refuse to associate with us. The eldest, Anna, is married and living elsewhere in the country. The younger, Louisa, is living with her. Mother has already closed her shop and will move soon to her new husband's home in Napli with our other siblings. And this, my dear, good sister, is what bothers me most, mother's abandonment of the fruit of not her labors, but yours. It was with the money raised on your head that mother created that shop, and now she has carelessly cast it aside. I wish mother had discussed this with any one of us children. I truly believe there was a time she would have. You remember how she was all those years ago...but what good is dwelling on the past. I am torn between going with mother to watch over our brothers and sister about whom I am truly worried, and staying here to distance myself from this disaster and seek refuge with friends new and old. Be strong, my dear sister. I remain,

Your loving brother.

No, no it couldn't be. How could she? How could her mother be so thoughtless, so selfish? How could she make a marriage of convenience to a shallow, greedy, selfish man after being married to Morena's father? How could she do this to her children? It would be better to have no father than a step-father who resented your existence. How could her mother do this to her after her six years of slavery? Her mind was in turmoil with a thousand thoughts zig-zagging across it at once. When she was more collected she managed to think of herself. She realized how odd it was that she had a new father and two new sisters. She doubted that any of them knew of her existence, her mother was unlikely to mention the daughter who had become such a disappointment. Nevertheless, Morena was dismayed, to say the least, that all of this happened so suddenly and without consulting anyone.

Things weren't always like this, Morena reflected. Once the seven of them were a family. Everyone down to the babies were consulted on everything. Her parents acted primarily with the good of the children in mind. Money was never plentiful but as a child Morena was not aware of wanting for anything. Her father's death changed everything. Her mother turned to Morena to be the other adult in the family. Suddenly there were mouths to feed and no way to feed them. Her mother thought of nothing but money. So one day a wealthy foreign gentleman passing through the port town noticed a girl doing odd jobs at the docks. She did them eagerly, quickly, and efficiently. He talked to her in his tongue and found her to be proficient in it. He made an offer to the girl's mother to buy her. The girl didn't want to go, but er mother convinced her. And so Morena and her life were changed for ever. Her family was fed at her expense, yet she didn't mind and never complained for she loved her family more than anything. With this thought in mind Morena, for the first time, almost hated her mother. Morena had sacrificed so much for her family, yet her mother was willing to give herself, without a thought for her children, to the first rich man who showed an interest. How dare she! And how dare she feel about Morena the way she did!

These feelings, combined with those Morena had been struggling with lately, resulted in a very excited state which Rodrigo found her in. It was in the afternoon when he approached Morena's door. He had spent the morning with Bendetta and thought he would stop by to check on Morena. This is what he told himself but in his heart of hearts he felt guilty over not visiting her in nearly a week. Guilty and something else he couldn't put his finger on. He had been so busy catching up with Bendetta. She was good for him. She brought back so many memories and she was delightful to be with. Sophisticated, cool, witty, wonderful. Many would consider her the perfect woman, if it weren't for that divorce. But after all, he wasn't one to be bothered by things like that. Perhaps it was time...

He stopped in mid-thought as he came within view of Morena's house. Morena had been acting somewhat differently lately. She was a bit quieter, more nervous when he was teaching her, more eager than ever to please, yet still Morena. He supposed she was just tired from all the rehearsing. Or else perhaps from count Narca's son who never seemed to pass a day without calling on her. Of course, who was he to talk? Yet somehow he found himself liking this young count less and less.

Helene let him in and Rodrigo handed her his hat and gloves as he said joyfully: "Morena! My great and talented friend! How go things today?"

He was surprised to look at her and not find the usual gentle smile and gleaming eyes. Instead a pained expression and eyes that he could tell had been moist with tears for a little while now greeted him. His smile fell immediately and he hurried to sit beside her on the couch.

"What on earth is the matter?" he asked earnestly, putting a worried hand on hers.

"I've received a letter from Antonio." she answered angrily showing it to him. He had only to scan it to understand the situation. He shut his eyes in pain and sympathy for Morena. Despite the treatment she received from her mother he knew she clung to the memory of different days when she was loved by those close to her. After all, she only wanted to be valued as any other human being did. And though he valued her more than almost anyone, he was not mother and father to her, only friend. Close friend. Friend who wanted desperately to do anything he could to soothe the excited bundle of nerves next to him.

"Next thing my brother will right to me is that she's having any document burned that proves I ever existed."

"Morena I'm sorry."

"I know you are. I knew you'd understand as soon as you read that. You know me well enough."

"I wish I could be your family for you."

"No," she said quickly, "I wouldn't want that."

"Well thanks very much."

"No! That wasn't what I meant," she sounded so tired, too tired and world-weary for nineteen.

"I know." He said, gently putting his hand behind her head. She tried not to show how his touch caused her heart to beat faster and almost made her tremble, and fortunately was saved by a knock at the door. Morena looked frantically for her handkerchief before Rodrigo gave her his. A moment later entered the young Count of Narca.

"Well, this is doubly pleasant" he said, "Morena and the Baron at once. How delightful!"

He said, and took Morena's hand. "Will the Baron be joining us Morena?"

"Joining us?" she asked.

"For dinner. We had planned to go out. Did you forget?"

"Oh! Of course. No, I didn't forget, well, only momentarily. My mind was on other things."

"Yes, I thought you looked a bit piqued. Are you all right?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Rodrigo was strangely torn between a desire to laugh and to knock the boy's hand off. He pitied him and was angered by him at the same time. On the one hand he was clumsily but earnestly trying to comfort her, as if he could begin to understand what the matter was. On the other hand he was going to far, he had only recently met Morena after all. Yet perhaps, Rodrigo thought, an idea forming, perhaps he should give the young man time. With that:

"Thank you for the invitation but I have dinner plans of my own tonight. In fact I ought to be going now, you both have a wonderful evening." he said congenially, comfortingly taking Morena's hand once more.

"Have a good evening Rodrigo." he heard Morena weakly say as he left.

"Is there anything the matter?" Morena heard this through a haze of disappointment.

"No, nothing. I was just feeling a bit poorly."

"I'm terribly sorry. Is there anything I can do?'

"You can take me to dinner." she said managing to smile. "Just give me a moment to get ready."

"You look lovely as you are."

"You're a dear."

So they went out and enjoyed each other's company. Yet Morena couldn't help feeling despondent throughout the evening and had to paste on a smile most of the time. She was grateful when the evening was over and she returned home. She was obliged however to offer her young friend coffee which he gleefully accepted. They both sat on her couch, conversing about nothing in particular when it dawned on Morena that he was fidgeting, and indeed had been fidgeting quite nervously for some time now.

"Are you all right?"

"Perfectly. Hardly ever better. However, Morena, Signorina Arzecci, there is something I wish to ask you."

He had gone beyond fidgeting, he was turning quite pale now.

"What is it? You're making me nervous. Out with it!"

"Signorina," he said mostly to himself, taking a deep breath. Suddenly Morena realized that he was on one knee on the floor in front of her, her right hand in one of his, his other hand holding a truly magnificent ring, "I-I would like to a-a-ask the honor of y-your b-becoming m-m-m-my w-wife."

There was a moment of shock in which Morena could say nothing. Then the only thing she could get out was: "What?"

It was a rhetorical question but the poor boy went on stuttering out a reply again before Morena regained her senses. Then, all she could feel was remorse and pity for the poor, dear young man in front of her.

"Please get up."

"May I have an answer."

"Oh," she sighed

He needed no words, the look in her eyes spoke for her. Despondently and confusedly he rose from his knees, feeling very foolish.

"I'm so sorry." she sighed, guilitily.

"I thought-"

"If I misled you or ever gave you false hope I assure you it was unintentional."

"But-why?"

"Why? Why, I hardly know you. You hardly know me."

"But I love what I do know, that's enough."

"There is a great deal about me you don't know that would surely change your mind." she said gravely.

"Nothing would. I want to know more about you. I wish you would unburden your heart to me."

"There are some things I wish no one to know."

For a moment neither said anything as a dark cloud began gathering on the brow of the young nobleman.

"He knows those things doesn't he."

"Who?"

"Signor Il Barone," he said sarcastically, "your very dear friend who is always here."

"You're always here too." she said gently.

"But you see him at the opera every day as well. I'm willing to bet that he knows a great many things." he said darkly, perhaps even meanly.

"What are you insinuating?" Morena asked, getting on her guard.

"Are you waiting for him?" he asked incredulously, not answering her question, "are you waiting for you to open his arms and his heart to you?"

"No!" she exclaimed.

"You can wait until you're old and decrepit then. I know you pretend not to listen to gossip but even you must know he's expected at last to wed that divorced Contessa."

"Of course and I'm very happy for-"

"Liar!"

"Why are you being so cruel?" she shouted finally. It seemed to stop him. After a silence he said quietly.

"I am sorry to have upset you. Perhaps I have given myself false hope. I apologize. I will not trouble you again."

"No. Please don't do that. Let's still be good friends."

He looked at her blankly for a moment, then walked out of her house.

Morena would have lied if she said that she wasn't relieved. She had been sensing something of this sort for some time now, and was glad to see it behind her. Yet the episode upset her as well, especially coming so soon after other bad news.

She never told Rodrigo about the proposal. She was afraid to go near the subject of romance with him, for fear she would betray her own secret. He was never the wiser, but things continued as they always did for a few months more before things began to drastically change. One evening in autumn Morena was in her dressing room, frantically fixing her hair and singing scales at the same time, with only a few minutes until curtain. She jumped when she heard a knock on the door, breaking her concentration and making her drop the strand of hair she was holding.

"Come in." she said frustrated. In the mirror she saw, to her surprise, Rodrigo enter.

"Rodrigo, what is it?" she asked with a worried frown as she went back to her hair.

"Morena I'm terribly sorry to disturb you but one of the violinists broke a string and hasn't time to replace it. I can't seem to find another. I thought I saw yours in here the other day."

"Yes of course, it's in the corner over there. Poor man, he must be in a frenzy."

"No, not him. He's cool as can be. Here it is. Thank you so much Morena, I'll leave you too your scales."

"Do make sure he's careful with it. You know how important that violin is to me."

"Of course I will. Good luck tonight Morena." he said, briefly laying a friendly hand on her shoulder.

"You too. Will I see you afterward?"

"Not tonight. I'm meeting Bendetta."

"Of course. Enjoy yourself then." she answered, trying to keep the jealousy out of her voice. It had been weeks since he'd come to her flat. As Rodrigo shut the door she exhaled, letting her disgruntled emotions out so they wouldn't interfere with her performance.

As Rodrigo walked back to the pit he felt inside his pocket for the hundredth time, mechanically opening the velvet box and stroking the circle of gold which closed around a circle of topaz. It was his mother's engagement ring, and hopefully tonight it would become Bendetta's. After all, why not? She was classy, sophisticated, experienced, intelligent, beautiful. They had excellent conversation together. And he was nearing thirty, certainly old enough to settle down and build a home of his own.

"Here you are Richard," he said to the violinist, "it's Morena's and very dear to her so do be careful with it and be sure to give it back to her immediately after the performance."

After that he was preoccupied with his own preparations but he vaguely noted how Richard strangely scrutinized and ran his finger along a distinctive scratch on the neck of the instrument, with a confused frown.