ctation, and to let my secretary
confine herself to her writing. The fact that on any morning I had not
allowed her to read until the hour of noon was an additional proof that
my decision was a wise one.

The story of Tomaso and Lucilla now went bravely on, with enough
groundwork of foreign land for the characters to stand on, and I tried
very hard to keep my mind on the writing of my book and away from its
writer. Outwardly I may have appeared to succeed fairly well in this
purpose, but inwardly the case was different. However, if I could
suppress any manifestations of my emotions, I told myself, I ought to be
satisfied.

A few mornings after the recommencement of the dictation I was a little
late in entering my study, and I found my secretary already at the table
in the anteroom. In answer to my morning salutation she merely bowed,
and sat ready for work. She did not even offer to read what she had last
written. This surprised me. Was she resenting what she might look upon
as undue stiffness and reserve? If so, I was very sorry, but at the same
time I would meet her on her own ground. If she chose to return to her
old rigidity, I would accept the situation, and be as formal as she
liked.

More than this, I began to feel a little resentment. I would revert not
only to my former manner, but to my former matter. I would wind up that
love-story, and confine myself to the subject of foreign travel.

Acting on this resolution, I made short work of Tomaso and Lucilla. The
former determined not to think of marriage until he was several years
older, and had acquired the necessary means to support a wife; and
Lucilla accepted the advice of her mother and the priest, and obtained a
situation in a lace-making establishment in Venice, where she resolved
to work industriously until the middle-aged innkeeper had made up his
mind whether or not he would marry one of the handsome girls to whom he
had become guardian.

To this very prosaic conclusion of the love-story I added some remarks
intended as an apology for introducing such a story into my sketches of
travel, and showing how the little narrative brought into view some of
the characteristics of the people of Sicily. After that I discoursed of
the present commerce of Italy as compared with that of the Middle Ages.

My secretary took no notice whatever of my change of subject, but went
on writing as I dictated. This apathy at last became so annoying to me
that, excusing mys