parentage admits of a representative. All this is very
ignoble on my part; but if I knew of anything meaner that
would ensure me success, I'd do it also.

"What a stunning vendetta on this girl, if she were at last
to consent, to find out whom she had married, and _what_.
Think of the winter nights' tales, of the charges that hang
over me, and their penalties. Imagine the Hue and Cry as
light reading for the honeymoon!"

He added one line on the envelope, to say he would write again on the
morrow; but his promise he did not keep.

CHAPTER XXIII. A STORM.

THE boat excursion mentioned in Calvert's letter was not the only
pleasure-project of that day. It was settled that Mr. Stockwell should
come out and give Milly a lesson in photography, in which, under Loyd's
former guidance, she had already made some progress. He was also to give
Miss Grainger some flower-seeds of a very rare kind, of which he was
carrying a store to the Pasha of Egypt, and which required some peculiar
skill in the sowing. They were to dine, too, at a little rustic house
beside the lake; and, in fact, the day was to be one of festivity and
enjoyment.

The morning broke splendidly; and though a few clouds lingered about the
Alpine valleys, the sky over the lake was cloudless, and the water was
streaked and marbled with those parti-coloured lines which Italian lakes
wear in the hot days of midsummer. It was one of those autumnal mornings
in which the mellow colouring of the mature season blends with the soft
air and gentle breath of spring, and all the features of landscape are
displayed in their fullest beauty. Calvert and Florence were to visit
the Isola de San Giulio, and bring back great clusters of the flowers of
the "San Guiseppe" trees, to deck the dinner-table. They were also to go
on as far as Pella for ice or snow to cool their wine, the voyage being,
as Calvert said, a blending of the picturesque with the profitable.

Before breakfast was over the sky grew slightly, overcast, and a large
mass of dark cloud stood motionless Over the summit of Monterone.

"What will the weather do, Carlo?" asked Calvert of the old boatman of
the villa, as he came to say that all was in readiness.

"Who knows, 'cellenza?" said he, with a native shrug of the shoulders.
"Monterone is a big traitor of a mountain, and there's no believing him.
If that cloud scatters, the day will be fine; if the wind brings down
f