out
the passage of the moments. By-and-by Betty the servant came to the
door into the kitchen, and made a sign to Phillis, who put her
half-mended stocking down, and went away to the kitchen without a word.
Looking at cousin Holman a minute or two afterwards, I saw that she had
dropped her chin upon her breast, and had fallen fast asleep. I put the
newspaper down, and was nearly following her example, when a waft of
air from some unseen source, slightly opened the door of communication
with the kitchen, that Phillis must have left unfastened; and I saw
part of her figure as she sate by the dresser, peeling apples with
quick dexterity of finger, but with repeated turnings of her head
towards some book lying on the dresser by her. I softly rose, and as
softly went into the kitchen, and looked over her shoulder; before she
was aware of my neighbourhood, I had seen that the book was in a
language unknown to me, and the running title was L'Inferno. Just as I
was making out the relationship of this word to 'infernal', she started
and turned round, and, as if continuing her thought as she spoke, she
sighed out,--

'Oh! it is so difficult! Can you help me?' putting her finger below a
line.

'Me! I! I don't even know what language it is in!'

'Don't you see it is Dante?' she replied, almost petulantly; she did so
want help.

'Italian, then?' said I, dubiously; for I was not quite sure.

'Yes. And I do so want to make it out. Father can help me a little, for
he knows Latin; but then he has so little time.'

'You have not much, I should think, if you have often to try and do two
things at once, as you are doing now.

'Oh! that's nothing! Father bought a heap of old books cheap. And I
knew something about Dante before; and I have always liked Virgil so
much. Paring apples is nothing, if I could only make out this old
Italian. I wish you knew it.'

'I wish I did,' said I, moved by her impetuosity of tone. 'If, now,
only Mr Holdsworth were here; he can speak Italian like anything, I
believe.'

'Who is Mr Holdsworth?' said Phillis, looking up.

'Oh, he's our head engineer. He's a regular first-rate fellow! He can
do anything;' my hero-worship and my pride in my chief all coming into
play. Besides, if I was not clever and book-learned myself, it was
something to belong to some one who was.

'How is it that he speaks Italian?' asked Phillis.

'He had to make a railway through Piedmont, which is in Italy, I
believe; and