uld see that he was on his guard; he would n't throw
himself away. He thought too much of himself, or at any rate he took
too good care of himself,--in the manner of a man to whom something had
happened which had given him a lesson. Of course what had happened was
that his heart was buried somewhere,--in some woman's grave; he had
loved some beautiful girl,--much more beautiful, Kate was sure, than
she, who thought herself small and dark,--and the maiden had died, and
his capacity to love had died with her. He loved her memory,--that was
the only thing he would care for now. He was quiet, gentle, clever,
humorous, and very kind in his manner; but if any one save Mildred had
said to her that if he came three times a week to Posilippo, it was for
anything but to pass his time (he had told them he didn't know another
soul in Naples), she would have felt that this was simply the kind of
thing--usually so idiotic--that people always thought it necessary to
say. It was very easy for him to come; he had the big ship's boat, with
nothing else to do; and what could be more delightful than to be rowed
across the bay, under a bright awning, by four brown sailors with
"Louisiana" in blue letters on their immaculate white shirts, and in gilt
letters on their fluttering hat ribbons? The boat came to the steps of
the garden of the _pension_, where the orange-trees hung over and made
vague yellow balls shine back out of the water. Kate Theory knew all
about that, for Captain Benyon had persuaded her to take a turn in the
boat, and if they had only had another lady to go with them, he could
have conveyed her to the ship, and shown her all over it It looked
beautiful, just a little way off, with the American flag hanging loose
in the Italian air. They would have another lady when Agnes should
arrive; then Percival would remain with Mildred while they took this
excursion. Mildred had stayed alone the day she went in the boat;
she had insisted on it, and, of course it was really Mildred who had
persuaded her; though now that Kate came to think of it, Captain Benyon
had, in his quiet, waiting way--he turned out to be waiting long after
you thought he had let a thing pass--said a good deal about the pleasure
it would give him. Of course, everything would give pleasure to a man
who was so bored. He was keeping the "Louisiana" at Naples, week after
week, simply because these were the commodore's orders. There was no
work to be done there, and hi