CHAPTER VI.

The Adairs were doubly anxious to know Marie and to have her with them, after reading the papers which Madame Hird had given them; moreover, she would, they thought, so well supply Lucy's place, and be a companion to Flora.

Accordingly, when the day arrived which had been fixed for Lucy's departure, and they had confided her to the care of the friends with whom she was to travel to England, they determined to drive straight to the convent. They got into an open carriage, but the driver looked wonders when he was told that their destination was the Villa Ianthe, on the Lungara--a long distance indeed from the Piazza dei Termini. He tried to console himself, however, by driving as slowly as possible, being too truly Italian to trouble himself as to whether, in so doing, he lost other fares or not. What true Italian does not prefer the _dolce far niente_ to gain? Fortunately it was a matter of indifference to the Adairs; they were not pressed for time, and that slow motion through the soft, hazy air of Rome was far from disagreeable, so they let him _gang his ain gate_.

Even their slow pace brought them, at length, to the convent, and once more they were shown into the little square room, with its prim air--that room which not even the sun of Italy could cheer or warm.

Madame Hird came down quickly, and when the usual greetings were over, and they were all seated, Mrs. Adair gave back the papers, and said, "These have interested us so much that we are longing to make the acquaintance of the little heroine, and to have her with us. When can she come? We leave Rome on Tuesday week, and should like it to be as soon as possible, that she may get accustomed to us before we set out on our journey."

"You can see her now, if you wish," replied Madame Hird, "but the Superioress will say when she can go to you. I had a letter from Madame de St. Severan yesterday; she is greatly pleased to hear that Marie is to travel with you, and that you intend to make some _détour_; a little travelling with you and your daughter will, she thinks, be of great advantage to Marie. I wrote to her of you from what I knew of you in former days, and of Mademoiselle I said, that as far as I could judge in a visit, she would be an admirable companion for my young charge."

"We are most grateful for your good opinion," answered Mrs. Adair, "and shall do our best to merit it, by making Marie as happy as we can while she is with us."

"I have no doubt that she will be very happy, and the new and varied scenes which she will visit with you will delight her. I will go and tell her that you wish to see her,--she may be a little shy at first, as she is so unaccustomed to meet strangers."

"Very naturally, poor child; but she will soon get over that with us, I trust."

"Then I will go to announce your visit."

After a short time Madame Hird returned, with a tall, and rather an imposing-looking nun, whom she introduced as "Madame la Supérieure."

The lady was French, but she spoke English tolerably well, and at once addressed Mrs. Adair in that language.

"Mademoiselle Marie will have the honour to salute you in a few instants. Madame Hird tells me that you have the goodness to permit her to make the voyage to Paris with you, and that you desire to know when she can go _chez vous_. It is to-day Friday; shall we then say Monday next? Madame de St. Severan has sent me a sum of money, which she prayed me to give you, should it be decided that Mademoiselle Marie was to travel with you; it is for her voyage. Shall I give it to you now, or when you come for her on Monday?"

"Then, if you please, since I can have a receipt ready to give you. You know, Madame, that it is better to do these things _en règle_; it prevents misunderstandings."

"Just as you like. At what hour will you come on Monday?"

"Would five o'clock suit you, Madame?"

"It is equal to me, and Marie shall be ready for you at that hour. I am astonished that she has not come down to be presented to you. And now that all our arrangements are made, I will ask you to give me permission to retire, as I am very much occupied. I will send Marie to you at once. Adieu, Madame,--adieu, Mademoiselle." And making a formal curtsey to each of them, she left the room.

Flora drew a long breath as the door closed, and had not Madame Hird remained in the room, we should probably have heard her utter a fervent "_Deo gratias!_" Madame Hird smiled slightly and said, "Marie will get a reprimand for dilatoriness, but in reality it is timidity which has prevented her from coming sooner. I hear a step,--I will go and meet the poor child; she would never have courage to come in herself."

She went into the passage and returned immediately, leading in a young lady dressed in a black silk frock. She was very short, but she had a well-formed, plump figure, large liquid black eyes, full red lips, a clear olive complexion covered with blushes, and black hair curling round her head in short curls. A pretty little creature she certainly was, and she looked so innocent and clinging that from the first moment it was hardly possible not to be fond of her.

Madame Hird presented her to Mrs. Adair and said, "This is the lady who is so kind as to take charge of you to Paris, Marie; and to whom I am sure you will be very grateful."

Marie made a shy curtsey and muttered something in French; but Mrs. Adair took her hand and kissed her, saying, "Oh, this is quite too formal; ... we must be friends, Marie--or must I call you Mademoiselle?"

"_Oh non, Madame_," and she blushed more than ever.

Flora now came and kissed her also, as she said, "Come and talk to me, Marie." She drew her to the window and made her sit down beside her. Meanwhile Madame Hird devoted herself to Mrs. Adair, and they wisely left the young people to themselves.

"You must not be shy with me, Marie; I do not appear very terrible, do I?"

"_Mais non, Mademoiselle_," answered Marie, with a smile.

"Well then, you must call me Flora, and not _Mademoiselle_. I call you Marie."

"_Quel joli nom vous avez._"

"You like it!--then you must show me that you do by using it. But you speak English they say; I see that you understand it well."

"_Oui, je le comprends très bien, Made_----"

Flora looked at her and shook her head. Marie smiled, hesitated for a moment, and then said, coyly, "_Flore_."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Flora, "there is a victory already gained! But you were going to say--

"_Mais je ne le parle pas bien, et j'ai peur de vous._"

Marie turned, and for the first time looked up fully in Flora's face.

"But you are not much afraid of me, Marie, after all?"

"_Mais vous, vous parlez Français,--c'est très heureux pour moi!_"

"Well, I must say that I do not quite see that, Marie; perhaps you can explain it to me?"

"_Oui, et très bien même. Je n'aime pas à parler une langue étrangère avec vous, parceque j'ai peur de vous, mais vous n'avez pas peur de moi!_" And she laughed merrily, as if she thought it an absurd idea that any one could be afraid of her. It made Flora laugh also, and the laughing seemed to set Marie more at her ease,--very soon all fear of the formidable Flora appeared to have vanished.

After some little time Mrs. Adair said, "I am glad, Marie, to see that you and Flora are becoming friends."

"_Oui, Madame, et je n'ai plus peur d'elle!_"

"So I perceive, nor must you be afraid of me, either. Now we must leave you, but only until Monday. Flora has told you, I suppose, that the Superioress has given you leave to come to us then."

"_Oui, Madame, et ce sera un bonheur pour moi de faire ce voyage avec vous et avec Mademoiselle votre fille!_"

"I hope you may find it so. Good-bye, then, for a few days." She kissed her, and then turned to bid Madame Hird adieu.

"Only four o'clock! It is too early for us to go home," said Flora, looking up from her watch as they got into the street.

"Is there anything near that we have not seen?"

"The Farnese Palazzo is quite close, but if the king and queen are not away it is only shown to visitors on Sundays at five in the evening."

"Let us try, at all events; they may perhaps be absent."

As the two ladies turned off the Lungara into the _Via del Ponte_, they met Mr. Lyne coming down the _Via delle Fornaci_.

"Mrs. Adair! who would have thought of seeing you here?" and he shook hands with her and with Flora.

"We are returning from the Villa Ianthe," answered Mrs. Adair.

"And I," rejoined Mr. Lyne, "from the beautiful Fontana Paolina. Are you going to walk home?"

"Yes; or rather we are going first to the Palazzo Farnese to try if we can see it. Flora says it is quite near."

"So it is, and I think you _can_ see it. I know that the royal family were absent yesterday, and they may not have returned. May I have the pleasure of accompanying you, Mrs. Adair?"

He addressed Mrs. Adair, but he looked at Flora, who replied, "Well, I suppose you may, as I dare say your coming will not prevent our seeing the pictures."

"I should think not," added Mrs. Adair, smiling. So they went on together.

Ah! Flora, could you have known the past events of the day before, or the coming ones of that day, how different would have been your answer when Mr. Lyne asked to accompany you to the Farnese Palace!

Mr. Lyne was about the middle height and rather slight; he had regular, well-cut features, brown eyes, and dark hair. He was certainly gentleman-like in appearance, and was generally called handsome, being so, indeed, to those who think more of form than of expression; not that his expression was wanting in goodness or even in intelligence, but it was devoid of animation or energy. He was essentially what is called a good young man,--one who fulfilled every duty with the greatest exactitude, who always did just what was expected of him. His ideas and conversation on most subjects were just, calm, and deliberate, but never original, and he was perfectly guiltless of ever allowing himself to be carried away by feeling or enthusiasm. No one ever heard of his doing a startling act of kindness, self-devotion, or generosity; but on the other hand he was invariably kind in a general way, a sincere friend, too, and moderately generous.

We have heard that he was going to be married to Flora Adair, or at least that he intended to propose for her, and felt no doubt about being accepted. This was true, and his courtship and love were quite in keeping with the other features of his character. As his mother was French, and he had been brought up chiefly in France, he had acquired much of the French ideas about marriage. The Adairs were old friends of his family; so much so, indeed, that Mrs. Adair always called him George; and he was aware that a marriage between him and Flora would be agreeable to his own and to her friends. It was just the connection which his parents wished for, but he was not a person ready to marry any girl who was pointed out to him as eligible; on the contrary, he was determined never to marry any one whom he did not _like_ very much. If he could like one an alliance with whom would please his family, he thought it would be a most desirable thing, and therefore he cultivated an intimate acquaintance with the Adairs.

Flora, strange to say, did inspire him with a feeling as nearly akin to love as it was in his nature to feel, and she treated him with a friendly, cordial manner, as the son of a very old friend of her mother's, never for a moment supposing that he could think of wishing to marry her, feeling, as she did, that their characters were too essentially different for anything like union between them. Thus she innocently encouraged him to believe that she liked him, and he did not understand the different symptoms of love and liking, otherwise her friendly but indifferent manner would have driven him to despair. Her real opinion of him was that he was a good-natured "bore," very obliging, gentlemanly, and quite capable of taking his place creditably in conversation; better informed, indeed, than the majority of those around him, but tiresome withal. And this was the man whom Mary Elton had told Mr. Earnscliffe that she was going to marry!

When they got to the palazzo they found--as Mr. Lyne had said--that the royal family had not returned. They were told that the _custode_ had gone upstairs a moment before with a gentleman. They hurried on and overtook them just as the door of the gallery was opened. The gentleman turned to let them pass before him,--it was Mr. Earnscliffe!

The unexpected meeting of those whom we esteem greatly is a delicious sensation, and this Flora then felt. Had she known all that had passed between Mary and Mr. Earnscliffe, how different would have been her feelings!

The Adairs were in advance when Mr. Earnscliffe turned, and his expression seemed to light up a little as he saw them, but it grew dark again as he caught sight of their companion, and he appeared to be in one of his haughtiest moods as he shook hands with them and Mr. Lyne.

"This is a fortunate day for me," said the latter; "as I was returning from a walk to the Fontana Paolina, I met Mrs. and Miss Adair, who kindly permitted me to accompany them here, and now we meet you who are such a connoisseur in painting, our visit will be doubly instructive."

"I believe the _custode_ undertakes to point out everything of note," replied Mr. Earnscliffe, stiffly. "It is usually so when one goes round with visitors in such places. But we are keeping the man waiting." He motioned him on, and they all followed.

It would have been too harsh had he not asked Flora if she felt perfectly recovered from her sprain; and in formal politeness Mr. Earnscliffe was scrupulously exact; so he said in a cold tone, "I hope, Miss Adair, that you do not feel any lingering inconvenience from your sprain?"

"None in the least, I thank you, as you will see by my dancing at Mrs. Elton's on Friday night. Helena told me that we were to have the pleasure of meeting you there."

"Yes, I promised Miss Elton to go; she said it was a farewell."

"So it is; they leave Rome on the Monday after. We met them yesterday evening on the Pincio after their visit to the Catacombs."

"Indeed!" He turned away, and seemed intent upon looking at the frescoes and listening to the guide's remarks about them.

Flora was gazing abstractedly at Domenichino's Deliverance of Prometheus, as she leaned back against the wall opposite. She could not rid herself of the chill which she felt from the moment that Mr. Earnscliffe had shaken hands with her, and yet had she been asked why, she could not have given a very clear answer. But who does not know that vague sensation of unhappiness which the manner of one dear to us sometimes causes us to feel, although there may not be any positive or, at least, any definable change in it such as an indifferent person could see?

How well she remembered what Mr. Earnscliffe had said to her about this Farnese Palazzo. All that he had told her of its founder, Alessandro Farnese, afterwards Paul III.; of its architecture, of its frescoes; how it had descended to the royal family of Naples, and eventually become their refuge and dwelling-place in exile. But how different he was on this day. He hardly noticed or spoke to her, save those few words of ordinary civility about her accident. She thought it was too provoking of him to be so changeable, but the next moment she felt indignant against herself for harbouring even a suspicion against him, and thought it was but natural that a clever man like him should not care greatly to talk in such a place to one like herself. When she was a prisoner it was otherwise; then he thought himself in some measure bound to try to amuse her; but that was all past, and his manner to her now was just what she ought to have expected.

Nevertheless, Flora wished that they had not come there then. Suddenly it struck her that it was all that tiresome Mr. Lyne's fault; if he had not met them and said that the king and queen were away, perhaps they might not have come.

The _custode_ seemed at length to think that they had spent sufficient time in admiring the frescoes, and he led them into the two large halls looking on the Piazza, where there are a few remnants of the fine collection of statues which this palace once contained. Mr. Lyne appeared to be much struck with the gigantic group hewn out of the stone taken from the basilica of Constantine, and representing Alessandro Farnese crowned by Victory. He was most anxious to hear all about Moschino, whose work it is, and expressed his wonder that he had never heard of it before.

Mr. Lyne will, doubtless, be considered to be a very strange lover, since he was so occupied with the statues whilst in the company of his beloved; but it should be remembered that Mr. Lyne never allowed himself to be carried away by feeling, that he always did the right thing at the right time; and he considered that in visiting celebrated places and galleries of art the object was to learn as much as he could; afterwards he could afford to please himself, and be devoted to the lady of his choice. At last his questionings came to an end, and the guide, seeing that the rest of the party were quite ready to go, moved towards the door.

Would Mr. Earnscliffe walk home with them? This was a question upon which Flora had been pondering for the last ten minutes, and she would have given a great deal to have had it satisfactorily answered. When they got into the Piazza she said, "Mamma, we can return by the Gesù, and inquire for our friend there who has been so ill."

"That was a happy thought, Flora. I am delighted to call to-day, as I fear that to-morrow we may not have time to do so. Do we say good-bye to you here, Mr. Earnscliffe?"

"No, as far as the Corso my way is the same as yours," he replied, after a moment's hesitation.

"Then come, George," said Mrs. Adair, turning to Mr. Lyne; "let us lead, and you must be my guide, for I do not know the way."

They went on, and Mr. Earnscliffe and Flora followed. She wondered whether he would now talk to her as he used to do, or remain in his silent mood. She need not to have feared; he was far too well bred to make a lady feel any such _gène_ while walking with him, but she hoped in vain that he would be the same towards her as he had been three weeks before.

He spoke of the topics of the day, of the ceremonies of Holy Week, and of the Easter rejoicings. It was very dull work; and when she saw that he was determined not to glide into their former intercourse, she gave up making any effort to sustain the conversation. She knew that he took no pleasure in speaking of ceremonies and illuminations, and as _she_ certainly did not, why, she thought, should she bore him or herself with such things?

Nor was he slow to discover that she did not care to continue their conversation, and, as is so often the case, he fixed upon a wrong motive as the cause of her silence. He supposed that she was thinking of the change which was about to take place in her life. He did not see how different his own manner was to her, but concluded that all he had seen on that day was proof of what Mary Elton had told him; and Flora's seeming indifference towards Mr. Lyne only made him think still less kindly of her, as it showed that she had not the grace even to pretend that she loved him, although she was ready to marry him.

What a run of ill-luck there was against Flora on that day! Everything seemed to confirm what he had heard; yet how different was the reality!

When they reached the Gesù, she said, "I suppose you have had a very dull walk. I know I was very silent, but you must feel that it was _your_ fault. I saw that you did not care to talk.... Here we are, however, at our destination, so good-bye."

She held out her hand, and as he took it he answered, "I do not quite understand what you mean?"

Flora smiled, turned away, and went up the steps as Mrs. Adair and Mr. Lyne wished him good-day. He stood for a moment until he saw them go into the convent, and then walked slowly away murmuring to himself, "What could she have meant by saying, 'You must feel that it was _your_ fault?'... The look, too, which accompanied those words seemed to ask some question.... But what is all this to me?"

He quickened his pace, and soon arrived at his apartments in the Piazza di Trajana.