d pray for us
the next half-hour."

"For 'us'? For whom?"

"For all of us. At any rate remember this: I worship the Christina!"

Rowland heard the rustle of Mrs. Light's dress; he turned away, and the
Cavaliere went, as he said, to his post. Rowland for the next couple of
days pondered his riddle.

CHAPTER XI. Mrs. Hudson

Of Roderick, meanwhile, Rowland saw nothing; but he immediately went to
Mrs. Hudson and assured her that her son was in even exceptionally good
health and spirits. After this he called again on the two ladies from
Northampton, but, as Roderick's absence continued, he was able neither
to furnish nor to obtain much comfort. Miss Garland's apprehensive
face seemed to him an image of his own state of mind. He was profoundly
depressed; he felt that there was a storm in the air, and he wished
it would come, without more delay, and perform its ravages. On the
afternoon of the third day he went into Saint Peter's, his frequent
resort whenever the outer world was disagreeable. From a heart-ache to
a Roman rain there were few importunate pains the great church did not
help him to forget. He had wandered there for half an hour, when he came
upon a short figure, lurking in the shadow of one of the great piers. He
saw it was that of an artist, hastily transferring to his sketch-book a
memento of some fleeting variation in the scenery of the basilica; and
in a moment he perceived that the artist was little Sam Singleton.

Singleton pocketed his sketch-book with a guilty air, as if it cost his
modesty a pang to be detected in this greedy culture of opportunity.
Rowland always enjoyed meeting him; talking with him, in these days,
was as good as a wayside gush of clear, cold water, on a long, hot walk.
There was, perhaps, no drinking-vessel, and you had to apply your lips
to some simple natural conduit; but the result was always a sense of
extreme moral refreshment. On this occasion he mentally blessed the
ingenuous little artist, and heard presently with keen regret that he
was to leave Rome on the morrow. Singleton had come to bid farewell
to Saint Peter's, and he was gathering a few supreme memories. He had
earned a purse-full of money, and he was meaning to take a summer's
holiday; going to Switzerland, to Germany, to Paris. In the autumn he
was to return home; his family--composed, as Rowland knew, of a father
who was cashier in a bank and five unmarried sisters, one of whom gave
lyceum-lectures