she
passed the hours in wearisome idleness--in worse than that.

She could not look again at Cecily's letter. More; she could not let
her eyes turn to Raphael's picture. But before the mirrors she paused
often and long, losing herself in self regard.

Early on the morrow, she drove down with Spence to Santa Lucia, and
went on board the Capri boat. There were few passengers, a handful of
Germans and an English family--father, mother, two daughters, and two
sons Sitting apart, Miriam cast many glances at her country people, and
not without envy. They were comely folk, in the best English health,
refined in bearing, full of enjoyment. Now and then a few words of
their talk fell upon her ears, and it was merry, kindly, intimate talk,
the fruit of a lifetime of domestic happiness. It made her think again
of what her own home-life had been. Such companionship of parents and
children was inconceivable in her experience. The girls observed her,
and, she believed, spoke of her. Must she not look strange in their
eyes? Probably they felt sorry for her, as an invalid whose countenance
was darkened by recent pain.

The boat made first of all for Sorrento, where a few more persons came
on board. Miriam was by this time enjoying the view of the coast. From
this point she kept her gaze fixed on Capri. One more delay on the
voyage; the steamer stopped near the Blue Grotto, that such of the
passengers as wished might visit it before landing. Miriam kept her
place, and for the present was content to watch the little boats, as
they rocked for a few moments at the foot of the huge cliff and then
suddenly disappeared through the entrance to the cavern. When the
English family returned, she listened to their eager, wondering
conversation. A few minutes more, and she was landing at the Marina,
where Reuben awaited her.

He had a carriage ready for the drive up the serpent road to the hotel
where Mrs. Lessingham and her niece were staying. His own quarters were
elsewhere--at the Pagano, dear to artists.

"Well, have you enjoyed the voyage? What did you think of Sorrento? We
watched the steamer across from there; we were up on the road to
Anacapri, yonder. You don't look so well as when I saw you
last--nothing like."

He waited for no reply to his questions, and talked with nervous
brokenness. Seated in the carriage, he could not keep still from one
moment to the next. His eyes had the unquiet of long-continued
agitation, the look that