at portion of his time in
study, to which, by their account, he seemed devoted. The adjoining
chamber was his library; its windows opened on a balcony looking on
two lofty and conical hills, one topped with a convent, while the
valley opened on the side and spread into a calm and very pleasant
view. Of the other apartments, one served as a saloon, but there was
nothing in it remarkable, except an admirably painted portrait of a
beautiful woman, which the servant informed them was their mistress.

'But that surely is not a German physiognomy?' said Lady Annabel.

'The mistress is an Italian,' replied the servant.

'She is very handsome, of whatever nation she may be,' replied Lady
Annabel.

'Oh! how I should have liked to have met these happy people, mamma,'
said Venetia, 'for happy they surely must be.'

'They seem to be good people,' said Lady Annabel. 'It really lightened
my heart to hear of all this gentleman's kind deeds.'

'Ah! if the signora only knew the master,' said their guide, 'she
would indeed know a good man.'

They descended to the garden, which certainly was not like the garden
of their villa; it had been but lately a wilderness of laurels, but
there were evidences that the eye and hand of taste were commencing
its restoration with effect.

'The master did this,' said their guide. 'He will allow no one to work
in the garden but himself. It is a week since he went to Bologna, to
see our Paulo. He gained a prize at the academy, and his father begged
the master to be present when it was conferred on him; he said it
would do his son so much good! So the master went, though it is the
only time he has quitted Qua since he came to reside here.'

'And how long has he resided here?' inquired Venetia.

''Tis the second autumn,' said the guide, 'and he came in the spring.
If the signora would only wait, we expect the master home to-night or
to-morrow, and he would be glad to see her.'

'We cannot wait, my friend,' said Lady Annabel, rewarding the guide;
'but you will thank your master in our names, for the kindness we have
experienced. You are all happy in such a friend.'

'I must write my name in Petrarch's house,' said Venetia. 'Adieu,
happy Arqua! Adieu, happy dwellers in this happy valley!'

CHAPTER IV.

Just as Lady Annabel and her daughter arrived at Rovigo, one of those
sudden and violent storms that occasionally occur at the termination
of an Italian autumn raged with irresistible fu