But inside,
in the spacious, rather bare rooms, it is cooler; and in one of these,
at the farther end, stands a young man in front of a piano, striking a
chord from time to time, and exercising a voice that does not seem to
have lost much of its _timbre_; while there is an exceedingly pretty,
gentle-eyed, rather foreign-looking young lady engaged in putting
flowers on the central table, which is neatly and primly laid out for
four.

[Illustration: "_'I have an extremely important letter to send off.'_"]

"Come, Leo," she says, "is it not enough? You are in too great a hurry,
I believe. Are you jealous of Mr. Doyle? Do you wish to go back at once?
No, no; we must get Mr. Mangan and his bride to make a long stay, before
we go over with them to the big towns on the mainland. Will you go out
and see if the _Risposta_ is visible yet."

"What splendid weather for Maurice and Francie, isn't it, Ntoniella?"
said he (for there are other pet names besides the familiar Nina for any
one called Antonia). "I wish we could have had our wedding-day along
with theirs. Well, at least we will have our honeymoon trip along with
them; and we shall have to be their guides, you know, in Venice and Rome
and Florence, for neither of them knows much Italian."

"Yes, but, Leo," said Nina, who was still busy with her flowers, "when
we go back with them to Naples, you really must speak properly. It is
too bad--the dialect--it is not necessary; you can speak well if you
wish. It was only to make fun of Sabetta that you began, now it is
always."

He only laughed at her grave remonstrance.

"Oh, don't you preach at me, Ntoniella!" he said, in the very language
she was deprecating. "There are lots of things I can say to you that
sound nicer that way."

He turned from the piano at last and took up an English newspaper that
he had previously opened.

"Ntonie, tell me, did you read all the news this morning?"

"No--a little," Nina answered, snipping off the redundant stalks of the
grapes.

"You did not see the announcement about--about Miss Cunyngham?"

At the mention of this name, Nina looked up quickly, and there was some
color in the pale, clear complexion.

"No. What is it, Leo?"

"I thought you might have seen that, at all events," he said, lightly.
"Well, I will read it to you. 'A marriage has been arranged and will
shortly take place between Lord Rockminster, eldest son of the Earl of
Fareborough, and Miss Honnor Cunyngham, da