there 's a family there of not less than
thirty persons."

"When Grimsby was here Castello was not occupied."

"Well, it is occupied now; and if Colonel Bramleigh be a person of
the influence he assumes to be, and if he cares--as I take it he must
care--not to live like a heathen, he 'll prevent this cruel wrong. I 'm
not sure that Nelly has much weight; but she would do anything in the
world for us, and I think Augustus, too, would befriend us."

"What can they all do? It's a question for the Commissioners."

"So it may; but I take it the Commissioners are human beings."

He turned again to the letter which lay open on the table, and read
aloud, "'They want a chaplain, I see, at Albano, near Rome. Do you know
any one who could assist you to the appointment?--always providing that
you would like it.' I should think I would like it."

"You were thinking of the glorious riding over the Campagna, George,
that you told me about long ago?"

"I hope not," said he, blushing deeply, and looked overwhelmed with
confusion.

"Well, _I_ was, George. Albano reminded me at once of those long
moonlight canters you told me about, with the grand old city in the
distance. I almost fancy I have seen it all. Let us bethink us of the
great people we know, and who would aid us in the matter."

"The list begins and ends with the Lord Culduff, I suspect."

"Not at all. It is the Bramleighs can be of use here. Lady Augusta lives
at Rome; she must be, I'm sure, a person of influence there, and be well
known too, and know all the English of station. It's a downright piece
of good fortune for us she should be there. There, now, be of
good heart, and don't look wretched. We 'll drive over to Castello
to-morrow."

"They 've been very cool towards us of late."

"As much our fault as theirs, George; some, certainly, was my own."

"Oh, Vickars has heard of her. He says here, 'Is the Lady Augusta
Bramleigh, who has a villa at Albano, any relative of your neighbor
Colonel Bramleigh? She is very eccentric,--some say mad; but she does
what she likes with every one. Try and procure a letter to her.'"

"It's all as well as settled, George. We 'll be cantering over that
swelling prairie before the spring ends," said she. Quietly rising and
going over to the piano, she began one of those little popular Italian
ballads which they call "Stornelli,"--those light effusions of
national life which blend up love and flowers and sunshine together so
p