white muslin dress and white ribbons, with Charles's hair
bracelet, and a brooch of beautiful silver workmanship, which Guy had
bought for her at Milan, the only ornament he had ever given to her.
She sat at her window, watching the groups of Italians in their holiday
costume, and dwelling on the strange thoughts that had passed through
her mind often before in her lonely Sundays in this foreign land,
thinking much of her old home and East-hill Church, wondering whether
the letter had yet arrived which was to free them from anxiety, and
losing herself in a maze of uncomfortable marvels about Laura.

'Now, then,' at length said Guy, entering, 'I only hope he has not
knocked himself up with his preparations, for he would make such a
setting to rights, that I told him I could almost fancy he expected the
queen instead of only Dame Amabel Morville.'

He led her down, opened the door, and playfully announced, 'Lady
Morville! I have done it right this time. Here she is'!

She had of course expected to see Philip much altered, but she was
startled by the extent of the change; for being naturally fair and
high-coloured, he was a person on whom the traces of illness were
particularly visible. The colour was totally gone, even from his lips;
his cheeks were sunken, his brow looked broader and more massive
from the thinness of his face and the loss of his hair, and his eyes
themselves appeared unlike what they used to be in the hollows round
them. He seemed tranquil, and comfortable, but so wan, weak, and
subdued, and so different from himself, that she was very much shocked,
as smiling and holding out a hand, where the white skin seemed hardly
to cover the bone and blue vein, he said, in a tone, slow, feeble, and
languid, though cheerful,--

'Good morning, Amy. You see Guy was right, after all. I am sorry to have
made your wedding tour end so unpleasantly.'

'Nay, most pleasantly, since you are better,' said Amabel, laughing,
because she was almost ready to cry, and her displeasure went straight
out of her head.

'Are you doing the honours of my room, Guy?' said Philip, raising his
head from the pillow, with a becoming shade of his ceremonious courtesy.
'Give her a chair.'

Amy smiled and thanked him, while he lay gazing at her as a sick person
is apt to do at a flower, or the first pretty enlivening object from
which he is able to derive enjoyment, and as if he could not help
expressing the feeling, he said--

'Is tha