vitable, under such circumstances, a revival of that passion she had
read in his face long ago. Her ingenuity of self-torment went so far as
to interpret Mallard's behaviour to herself in a dishonourable sense.
It is doubtful whether any one who loves passionately fulfils the ideal
of being unable to see the object of love in any but a noble light;
this is one of the many conventions, chiefly of literary origin, which
to the eyes of the general make cynicism of wholesome truth. Miriam
deemed it not impossible that Mallard had made her his present of
pictures simply to mislead her thought when she was gone. Jealousy can
sink to baser imaginings than this. It is only calm affection that
judges always in the spirit of pure sympathy.

On the following day, the Spences dined from home, and Miriam, who had
excused herself from accompanying them, sat through the evening in
their drawing-room. The weather was wretched; a large fire made the
comfort within contrast pleasantly enough with sounds of wind and rain
against the house. Miriam's mind was far away from Chelsea; it haunted
the Via del Babuino, and the familiar rooms of the hotel where Cecily
was living. Just after the clock had struck ten, a servant entered and
said that Mr. Elgar wished to see her.

Reuben was in evening dress.

"What! you are alone?" he said on entering. "I'm glad of that. I
supposed I should have to meet the people. I want to kill half an hour,
that's all."

He drew a small low chair near to hers, and, when he had seated
himself, took one of her hands. Miriam glanced at him with surprise,
but did not resist him. His cheeks were flushed, perhaps from the cold
wind, and there was much more life in his eyes than the other morning.

"You're a lonely girl, Miriam," he let fall idly, after musing. "I'm
glad I happened to come in, to keep you company. What have you been
thinking about?"

"Italy," she answered, with careless truth.

"Italy, Italy! Who doesn't think of Italy? I wish I knew Italy as well
as you do. Isn't it odd that I should be saying that to you? I believe
you are now far my superior in all knowledge that is worth having. Did
I mention that Ciss wrote an account of you in the letter just after
she had reached Rome?"

Miriam made an involuntary movement as if to withdraw her hand, but
overcame herself before she had succeeded.

"How did she come to know me so quickly?" was her question, murmured
absently.

"From Mrs. Spence, it see