em, though he never could see any evidence of the over-study
for which she had been taken from school. He made her, like Mrs. Elmore,
the partner of his historical researches; he read his notes to both of
them now; and when his wife was prevented from accompanying him, he went
with Lily alone to visit the scenes of such events as his researches
concerned, and to fill his mind with the local color which he believed
would give life and character to his studies of the past. They also went
often to the theatre; and, though Lily could not understand the plays,
she professed to be entertained, and she had a grateful appreciation of
all his efforts in her behalf that amply repaid him. He grew fond of her
society; he took a childish pleasure in having people in the streets
turn and glance at the handsome girl by his side, of whose beauty and
stylishness he became aware through the admiration looked over the
shoulders of the Austrians, and openly spoken by the Italian populace.
It did not occur to him that she might not enjoy the growth of their
acquaintance in equal degree, that she fatigued herself with the
appreciation of the memorable and the beautiful, and that she found
these long rambles rather dull. He was a man of little conversation;
and, unless Mrs. Elmore was of the company, Miss Mayhew pursued his
pleasures for the most part in silence. One evening, at the end of the
week, his wife asked, "Why do you always take Lily through the Piazza on
the side farthest from where the officers sit? Are you afraid of her
meeting Captain Ehrhardt?"

"Oh, no! I consider the Ehrhardt business settled. But you know the
Italians never walk on the officers' side."

"You are not an Italian. What do you gain by flattering them up? I
should think you might suppose a young girl had some curiosity."

"I do; and I do everything I can to gratify her curiosity. I went to San
Pietro di Castello to-day, to show her where the Brides of Venice were
stolen."

"The oldest and dirtiest part of the city! What _could_ the child care
for the Brides of Venice? Now be reasonable, Owen!"

"It's a romantic story. I thought girls liked such things,--about
getting married."

"And that's the reason you took her yesterday to show her the Bucentaur
that the doges wedded the Adriatic in! Well, what was your idea in going
with her to the Cemetery of San Michele?"

"I thought she would be interested. I had never been there before
myself, and I thought it wou