moment, and then continued his way. He
sauntered on, rather like one seeking to kill time than to reach a goal,
and once or twice he stopped, and seemed to reflect whether he would
go on. At last he reached a spot where a broad path of light streamed
across the street, and extended till it was lost in the thick foliage-of
the garden on the sea-side, and, looking suddenly up, he saw he was
in front of the great hotel of Naples, "L'Universo." The drawing-room
windows were open on a long balcony, and Maitland could see in the
well-lighted room certain figures which he persuaded himself he could
recognize even through the muslin curtains, which slightly moved and
waved in the faint night-air. As he still strained his eyes to mark
the scene, two figures approached the window, and passed out upon the
balcony. There could be no mistake,--they were Alice and her sister;
and so perfect was the stillness of the air, and so thin withal, that he
could hear the sound of their voices, though not trace their words.

"Is it not delicious here, Alice?" said Bella. "These are the glorious
nights of Italy Maitland used to tell us of,--so calm, so balmy, and so
starry."

"What was that Skeffy was saying to you about Maitland as you came
upstairs?" asked Alice, sharply.

"Oh, it was a rumor he mentioned that Maitland had quarrelled with the
Court party. He had advised something, or rejected something; in fact,
I paid little attention, for I know nothing of these Italian plots
and schemes, and I like Maitland much better when he does not speak of
them."

"Is he here now, do you know?"

"Yes; Skeff said he saw him this morning."

"I hope and pray he may not hear that we have arrived. I trust that we
may not see him."

"And why so, Alice dearest?"

"Can you ask me?"

"I mean, why not receive him on the terms of an easy intimacy? A person
of his tact is always quick enough to appreciate the exact amount of
favor he is held in."

"It is of myself I am thinking,--not of him," said she, with something
of resentment in her tone.

"If you speak this way, Alice, I shall believe that you care for him."

"The greater mistake yours, my dear Bella."

"Well--that you did once care for him, and regret the fact, or regret
the change,--which is it?"

"Neither, on my honor! He interested me,--I own to that; but now that
I know his mystery, and what a vulgar mystery it is, I am half ashamed
that I even felt an interest in him."

"Gossip wo