, like the sports of a
Naiad--sometimes shooting up like a tree, sometimes shaped as a
convolvulus, sometimes tossing from its silver spray a flower of
vermilion, or a fruit of gold--as if at play with its toy like a happy
child. And near the fountain was a large aviary, large enough to inclose a
tree. The Italian could just catch a gleam of rich color from the wings of
the birds, as they glanced to and fro within the network, and could hear
their songs, contrasting the silence of the free populace of air, whom the
coming winter had already stilled.

Riccabocca's eye, so alive to all aspects of beauty, luxuriated in the
view of this garden. Its pleasantness had a charm that stole him from his
anxious fear and melancholy memories.

He never saw but two forms within the demesnes, and he could not
distinguish their features. One was a woman, who seemed to him of staid
manner and homely appearance: she was seen but rarely. The other a man,
often pacing to and fro the colonnade, with frequent pauses before the
playful fountain, or the birds that sang louder as he approached. This
latter form would then disappear within a room, the glass door of which
was at the extreme end of the colonnade; and if the door were left open,
Riccabocca could catch a glimpse of the figure bending over a table
covered with books.

Always, however, before the sun set, the man would step forth more
briskly, and occupy himself with the garden, often working at it with good
heart, as if at a task of delight; and then, too, the woman would come
out, and stand by as if talking to her companion. Riccabocca's curiosity
grew aroused. He bade Jemima inquire of the old maid-servant who lived at
the cottage, and heard that its owner was a Mr. Oran--a quiet gentleman,
and fond of his book.

While Riccabocca thus amused himself, Randal had not been prevented,
either by his official cares or his schemes on Violante's heart and
fortune, from furthering the project that was to unite Frank Hazeldean and
Beatrice di Negra. Indeed, as to the first, a ray of hope was sufficient
to fire the ardent and unsuspecting lover. And Randal's artful
misrepresentation of Mrs. Hazeldean's conversation with him, removed all
fear of parental displeasure from a mind always too disposed to give
itself up to the temptation of the moment. Beatrice, though her feelings
for Frank were not those of love, became more and more influenced by
Randal's arguments and representations, the m