t be two
hours since we met."

"Don't," said Mae, with her eyes down, so of course he didn't, but the
two just marched quietly along back on the Sorrento road towards some
high rocks. They sat down behind these, with their faces towards the
sea, and were as thoroughly hidden from view, as if they had been quite
alone in the world.

"I suppose they were frightened," asked Mae, "at home--at Rome, I mean."
"Dreadfully," replied Norman, trying to be sober, but with the glad ring
in his voice still. "Edith was for dragging the Tiber; she was sure
you and the seven-branched candlestick lay side by side. Mrs. Jerrold
searched your trunks and read all your private papers, I am morally
certain." Then Norman stopped abruptly, and Mae drew the long stiletto
from her hair nervously and played with it before she said, "And the
boys?" "Albert was very, very sad, but reasonably sure you would be
found. We all feared the Italian, but Albert worked carefully, and soon
discovered that the officer was said to be engaged to a young girl
with whom he had been seen the day after you left, and that gave him
courage,"--then Norman stopped again abruptly. "And Eric?" "Eric sat
down with his face in his hands and cried, Miss Mae, and said, 'I've
lost my sister, the very dearest little sister in the world.'"

"And you came and found me," said Mae, after a pause, wiping the tears
from her eyes. "Yes, thank God," said Norman. He was sober enough now.
"Why did you do it?" asked Mae, "when I had been so naughty, and silly,
and unkind?" He came very near telling her the reason as she looked up
at him, but he did not, for she dashed on, "O! Mr. Mann, I have been--"

"Don't confess to me, Miss Mae. Leave all of this till you get home to
your own, who have a right to your confessions and penitence. Never
mind what you have been, here you are, and as I have only one more
handkerchief and your own looks as if it had been sea-bathing, you had
better dry your eyes and be jolly for the next two hours." This was
a precarious speech, but Mae only laughed at it, and dried her eyes
quickly. "But I have one thing to say to you," she said, "and please
mayn't I?"

"You may say anything you please to me, of course," replied this very
magnanimous Norman.

"It is not about the miserable past or my doings, but it's about the
future. I've said good-bye to my dreams of life--the floating and waving
and singing and dancing life that was like iced champagne. I'd rath