resh clouds from the Alps it will come on a 'burrasca'."

"Always a burrasca; how I am sick of your burrasca," said he,
contemptuously. "If you were only once in your life to see a real storm,
how you'd despise those petty jobbles, in which rain and sleet play the
loudest part."

"What does he say of the weather?" asked Florence, who saw that Calvert
had walked on to a little point with the old man, to take a freer view
of the lake.

"He says, that if it neither blows hard nor rains, it will probably be
fine. Just what he has told us every day since I came here."

"What about this fine trout that you spoke of, Carlo?"

"It is at Gozzano, 'cellenza; we can take it as we go by."

"But we are going exactly in the opposite direction, my worthy friend;
we are going to the island, and to Pella."

"That is different," said the old man, with another shrug of the
shoulders.

"Didn't you hear thunder? I'm sure I did," cried Miss Grainger.

"Up yonder it's always growling," said Calvert, pointing towards the
Simplon. "It is the first welcome travellers get when they pass the
summit."

"Have you spoken to him, Milly, about Mr. Stockwell? Will he take him up
at Orta, and land him here?" asked Miss Grainger, in a whisper.

"No, aunt; he hates Stockwell, he says. Carlo can take the blue boat and
fetch him. They don't want Carlo, it seems."

"And are you going without a boatman, Flurry?" Asked her aunt

"Of course we are. Two are quite cargo enough in that small skiff, and
I trust I am as skilful a pilot as any Ortese fisherman," broke in
Calvert.

"Oh, I never disputed your skill, Mr. Calvert."

"What, then, do you scruple to confide your niece to me?" said he, with
a low whisper, in which the tone was more menace than mere inquiry.

"Is this the first time we have ever gone out in a boat together?"

She muttered some assurance of her trustfulness, but so confusedly, and
with such embarrassment, as to be scarcely intelligible. "There! that
was certainly thunder!" she cried.

"There are not three days in three months in this place without thunder.
It is the Italian privilege, I take it, to make always more noise than
mischief."

"But will you go if it threatens so much?" said Miss Grainger.

"Ask Florry. For _my_ part, I think the day will be a glorious one."

"I'm certain it will," said Florence, gaily; "and I quite agree with
what Harry said last night Disputing about the weather has the same'
effect as firi