her without words sometimes, for they
had grown to know strangely well how certain things would impress them
both. Indeed Sophy did not at all realise how she had come to count on
Amaldi's companionship, until one afternoon, when going down to the
_banchetta_ to join the Marchesa for one of their jaunts, she saw that
he was not with her.

"Yes, my dear," said that lady, answering the question in her eyes, "we
shall be two 'lone, lorn women' this evening. Marco has been called to
Rome on business. He was much disappointed, as you may imagine. I bring
you '_tanti saluti e rincrescimenti_' from him. He went at eight o'clock
this morning."

The fact was, Amaldi had come to a point in his passion for Sophy when
he found it suddenly insupportable to be thus near her day after day,
exposed to the kind cruelty of her friendship. He had decided, over
night, that he must escape, if only for a breathing spell as it were,
and he had invented this excuse of _affari_ at Rome.

Then the Marchesa herself had to go to Milan again for a few days. Sophy
was left quite alone, save for Bobby and the maids. And somehow, the
whole lakeside seemed different suddenly--beautiful but empty. September
was drawing on. Soon she would have to be leaving. She feared the
October winds and rains for Bobby. It was apt to be rainy in October,
the Marchesa said. Only one month more. Perhaps she would not see Amaldi
again before she left. She would not admit the sinking of her heart at
this idea. No, her sadness was chiefly that she would have to leave this
lovely spot. She thought of going to Florence--or Venice---- She felt
unsettled.

One afternoon, when the warm hours dragged rather heavily and she was
tired of reading, she ordered a little _carozza_ and went off to hunt
antiques at Intra. She spent two dusty, pleasant hours of rummaging, and
returned with many parcels.

"Wait," she said to the _cocchiere_; "I will send some one to fetch
these things."

It was already dark, the violet dusk that is called "dark" in Italy. She
ran quickly up the two flights of stone steps leading to the terrace.
Some one was standing there, and came towards her as she appeared. She
thought it was Luigi at first.

"Luigi, please go----" she began. Then broke off short.

"Is it--you?" she asked in a low voice.

Something in this "you"--the way she said it--made Amaldi's heart go hot
for an instant. Then he answered quietly:

"Yes---- It's I."

"Ah ..." she br