austed.

She sacrificed her own clean handkerchief. He put a chair for her on the
loggia, which faced westward, and was still pleasant and cool. There she
sat, with twenty miles of view behind her, and he placed the dripping
baby on her knee. It shone now with health and beauty: it seemed to
reflect light, like a copper vessel. Just such a baby Bellini sets
languid on his mother's lap, or Signorelli flings wriggling on pavements
of marble, or Lorenzo di Credi, more reverent but less divine, lays
carefully among flowers, with his head upon a wisp of golden straw. For
a time Gino contemplated them standing. Then, to get a better view, he
knelt by the side of the chair, with his hands clasped before him.

So they were when Philip entered, and saw, to all intents and purposes,
the Virgin and Child, with Donor.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed; for he was glad to find things in such cheerful
trim.

She did not greet him, but rose up unsteadily and handed the baby to his
father.

"No, do stop!" whispered Philip. "I got your note. I'm not offended;
you're quite right. I really want you; I could never have done it
alone."

No words came from her, but she raised her hands to her mouth, like one
who is in sudden agony.

"Signorina, do stop a little--after all your kindness."

She burst into tears.

"What is it?" said Philip kindly.

She tried to speak, and then went away weeping bitterly.

The two men stared at each other. By a common impulse they ran on to the
loggia. They were just in time to see Miss Abbott disappear among the
trees.

"What is it?" asked Philip again. There was no answer, and somehow he
did not want an answer. Some strange thing had happened which he could
not presume to understand. He would find out from Miss Abbott, if ever
he found out at all.

"Well, your business," said Gino, after a puzzled sigh.

"Our business--Miss Abbott has told you of that."

"No."

"But surely--"

"She came for business. But she forgot about it; so did I."

Perfetta, who had a genius for missing people, now returned, loudly
complaining of the size of Monteriano and the intricacies of its
streets. Gino told her to watch the baby. Then he offered Philip a
cigar, and they proceeded to the business.

Chapter 8

"Mad!" screamed Harriet,--"absolutely stark, staring, raving mad!"

Philip judged it better not to contradict her.

"What's she here for? Answer me that. What's she doing in Monteriano in
August? Why isn