ere came a flush to her cheeks.

"You may laugh," said Spence, observing them, "but when did you see two
Englishmen abroad who did themselves so much honour?"

"True enough," replied Mallard. "One supposes that Englishmen with
brains are occasionally to be found in Italy, but I don't know where
they hide themselves."

"You will meet one in Rome in a few days," remarked Eleanor, "if you go
on with us--as I hope you intend to?"

"Yes, I shall go with you to Rome. Who is the man?"

"Mr. Seaborne--your most reverent admirer."

"Ah, I should like to know the fellow."

Miriam looked at him and smiled.

"You know Mr. Seaborne?" he inquired of her, abruptly.

"He was with us a fortnight in Athens."

As they were idling about, after their lunch, Mallard kept near to
Miriam, but without speaking. He saw her stoop to pick up a piece of
stone; presently another. She glanced at him.

"Bits of Paestum," he said, smiling; "perhaps of Poseidonia. Look at
the field over there, where the oxen are; they have walled it in with
fragments dug up out of the earth,--the remnants of a city."

She just bent her head, in sign of sympathy. A minute or two after, she
held out to him the two stones she had taken up.

"How cold one is, and how warm the other!"

One was marble, one travertine. Mallard held them for a moment, and
smiled assent; then gave them back to her. She threw them away.

When it was time to think of departure, they went to the inn; Mallard's
baggage was brought out and put into the carriage. They drove across
the silent plain towards Salerno. In a pause of his conversation with
Spence, Mallard drew Miriam's attention to the unfamiliar shape of
Capri, as seen from this side of the Sorrento promontory. She looked,
and murmured an affirmative.

"You have been to Amalfi?" he asked.

"Yes; we went last year."

"I hope you hadn't such a day as your brother and I spent
there--incessant pouring rain."

"No; we had perfect weather."

At Salerno they caught a train which enabled them to reach Naples late
in the evening. Mallard accompanied his friends to their hotel, and
dined with them. As he and Spence were smoking together afterwards, the
latter communicated some news which he had reserved for privacy.

"By-the-bye, we hear that Cecily and her aunt are at Florence, and are
coming to Rome next week."

"Elgar with them?" Mallard asked, with nothing more than friendly
interest.

"No. They say he is so hard at