g behind with her mother. For a quarter-of-an-hour,--the
whole day, as it seemed to Augusta,--there was a full two hundred
yards between them. It was not that the engaged girl could not bear
the severance, but that she could not endure the attention paid to
Ayala. On the next morning "she had it out," as some people say, with
her lover. "If I am to be treated in this way you had better tell me
so at once," she said.

"I know no better way of treating you," said Mr. Traffick.

"Dancing with that chit all night, turning her head, and then walking
with her all the next day! I will not put up with such conduct."

Mr. Traffick valued L120,000 very highly, as do most men, and would
have done much to keep it; but he believed that the best way of
making sure of it would be by showing himself to be the master. "My
own one," he said, "you are really making an ass of yourself."

"Very well! Then I will write to papa, and let him know that it must
be all over."

For three hours there was terrible trouble in the apartments in the
Palazzo Ruperti, during which Mr. Traffick was enjoying himself by
walking up and down the Forum, and calculating how many Romans could
have congregated themselves in the space which is supposed to have
seen so much of the world's doings. During this time Augusta was
very frequently in hysterics; but, whether in hysterics or out of
them, she would not allow Ayala to come near her. She gave it to be
understood that Ayala had interfered fatally, foully, damnably, with
all her happiness. She demanded, from fit to fit, that telegrams
should be sent over to bring her father to Italy for her protection.
She would rave about Septimus, and then swear that, under no
consideration whatever, would she ever see him again. At the end
of three hours she was told that Septimus was in the drawing-room.
Lady Tringle had sent half-a-dozen messengers after him, and at last
he was found looking up at the Arch of Titus. "Bid him go," said
Augusta. "I never want to behold him again." But within two minutes
she was in his arms, and before dinner she was able to take a stroll
with him on the Pincian.

He left, like a thriving lover, high in the good graces of his
beloved; but the anger which had fallen on Ayala had not been
removed. Then came a rumour that the Marchesa, who was half English,
had called Ayala Cinderella, and the name had added fuel to the fire
of Augusta's wrath. There was much said about it between Lady Tri