will not mix myself with it in any way,
nor will I return to England till it be decided; and say, if you
can, that you agree with me in this determination. And then, if the
L'Estranges are ready, let us start at once."

"They only wait for us; Julia said so this morning."

"Then we shall set out to-morrow."

CHAPTER XLIX. A LONG TETE-A-TETE

"Scant courtesy, I must say," exclaimed Lady Augusta, as, after rapidly
running her eyes over a note, she flung it across the table towards
Pracontal.

They were seated tete-a-tete in that small drawing-room which looked out
upon the garden and the grounds of the Borghese Palace.

"Am I to read it?" asked he.

"Yes, if you like. It is from Augustus Bramleigh, a person you feel some
interest in."

Pracontal took up the note, and seemed to go very carefully over its
contents.

"So then," said he, as he finished, "he thinks it better not to
meet--not to know me."

"Which is no reason on earth for being wanting in a proper attention
to me," said she, angrily. "To leave Rome without calling here, without
consulting my wishes, and learning my intentions for the future, is a
gross forgetfulness of proper respect."

"I take it, the news of the trial was too much for him. Longworth said
it would, and that the comments of the press would be insupportable
besides."

"But what have Ito do with that, sir? Mr. Bramleigh's first duty was
to come here. _I_ should have been thought of. _I_ was the first person
this family should have remembered in their hour of difficulty."

"There was no intentional want of respect in it, I 'll be bound," cried
Pracontal. "It was just a bashful man's dread of an awkward moment--that
English terror of what you call a 'scene'--that sent him off."

"It is generous of you, sir, to become his apologist. I only wonder--"
Here she stopped and seemed confused.

"Go on, my Lady. Pray finish what you began."

"No, sir. It is as well unsaid."

"But it was understood, my Lady, just as well as if it had been uttered.
Your Ladyship wondered who was to apologize for _me_."

She grew crimson as he spoke; but a faint smile seemed to say how
thoroughly she relished that southern keenness that could divine a
half-uttered thought.

"How quick you are!" said she, without a trace of irritation.

"Say, rather, how quick he ought to be who attempts to parry _you_ at
fence. And, after all," said he, in a lighter tone, "is it not as well
that he has spared u