o?"

"I was coming back to Naples from Pompeii. By-the-bye, I went up
Vesuvius, and descended shoeless. The guides ought to have metal boots
on hire. I was coming back, but Mallard clutched me by the coat-collar.
Even now I've come sorely against his will. I left him at Amalfi. I'm
going to settle my affairs here to-morrow, and join him again. He's
persuaded me to try and work at Amalfi."

"How long do you think of staying there?"

"It all depends. Perhaps I shan't be able to do anything, after all."

"But surely that depends on yourself."

"Not a bit! If I were a carpenter or bricklayer, one might say so--in a
sense. But such work as I am going to do is a question of mood,
influences, caprices--"

Miriam reflected.

"Mr. Mallard was unwilling to let you return here?"

"Naturally. He knows my uncertainty. But I have promised him; I shall
keep my word."

"He is working himself?"

"Will be by now; we had horrible day of rain at Amalfi. He seems rather
glummer than usual, but that won't hinder his work. I wish I had the
old fellow's energy. After all, though, one can force one's self to use
pencils and brushes; it's a different thing when all has to come from
the brain. If you haven't a quiet mind--"

"What disturbs you?" Miriam asked, watching him.

"Oh, there's always something. I wish you could give me a share of your
equanimity. Never mind, I shall try. By-the-bye, I ought to have a word
with Mrs. Lessingham and Cecily before I go. Are they likely to be here
tomorrow?"

"I can't say."

"Then I shall call at their place. When will they be at home?"

"Do you think you ought to do that?" Miriam asked, without looking at
him.

"Why on earth not?"

His brow darkened, and he seemed about to utter something not unlike
his vehemencies on the day of arrival.

"You must judge for yourself, of course," said Miriam. "We won't talk
about it."

Reuben nodded agreement carelessly. Then he began to talk of his
proposed work, and presently they went to join the Spences. For an hour
or more, Reuben held forth rapturously on what he had seen these last
few days. He could not rest seated, but paced up and down the room,
gesticulating, fervidly eloquent.

"Do play me something, will you, Mrs. Spence?" he asked at length. (His
cousinship with Eleanor had never been affirmed by intimate
association, and he had not the habit of addressing her by the personal
name.) "Just for ten minutes; then I'll be off and troubl