im to
come to my rooms, and, after an interval, he made his appearance.

"I want to bid you good-bye," I said; "I shall depart in the morning.
Don't go to the trouble of saying you are sorry. Of course you are not;
I must have bullied you immensely."

He made no attempt to say he was sorry, but he said he was very glad to
have made my acquaintance.

"Your conversation," he said, with his little innocent air, "has been
very suggestive."

"Have you found Camerino?" I asked, smiling.

"I have given up the search."

"Well," I said, "some day when you find that you have made a great
mistake, remember I told you so."

He looked for a minute as if he were trying to anticipate that day by the
exercise of his reason.

"Has it ever occurred to you that _you_ may have made a great mistake?"

"Oh yes; everything occurs to one sooner or later."

That's what I said to him; but I didn't say that the question, pointed by
his candid young countenance, had, for the moment, a greater force than
it had ever had before.

And then he asked me whether, as things had turned out, I myself had been
so especially happy.

PARIS, _December_ 17th.--A note from young Stanmer, whom I saw in
Florence--a remarkable little note, dated Rome, and worth transcribing.

"My dear General--I have it at heart to tell you that I was married a
week ago to the Countess Salvi-Scarabelli. You talked me into a great
muddle; but a month after that it was all very clear. Things that
involve a risk are like the Christian faith; they must be seen from
the inside.--Yours ever, E. S.

"P. S.--A fig for analogies unless you can find an analogy for my
happiness!"

His happiness makes him very clever. I hope it will last--I mean his
cleverness, not his happiness.

LONDON, _April_ 19th, 1877.--Last night, at Lady H---'s, I met Edmund
Stanmer, who married Bianca Salvi's daughter. I heard the other day that
they had come to England. A handsome young fellow, with a fresh
contented face. He reminded me of Florence, which I didn't pretend to
forget; but it was rather awkward, for I remember I used to disparage
that woman to him. I had a complete theory about her. But he didn't
seem at all stiff; on the contrary, he appeared to enjoy our encounter. I
asked him if his wife were there. I had to do that.

"Oh yes, she's in one of the other rooms. Come and make her
acquaintance; I want you to know her."

"You forget that I do know