here is a rough sketch I made from the
garden side."

"Come, that looks very pretty, indeed," cried George. "Do you mean to
say it is like that?"

"That's downright beautiful!" said Bramleigh. "Surely these are not
marble,--these columns!"

"It is all marble,--the terrace, the balconies, the stairs, the
door-frames; and as to the floors, they are laid down in variegated
slabs, with a marvellous instinct as to color and effect. I declare I
think it handsomer than Castello," cried Nelly.

"Have n't I often said," exclaimed Bramleigh, "there was nothing like
being ruined to impart a fresh zest to existence? You seem to start anew
in the race, and unweighted, too."

"As George and I have always been in the condition you speak of," said
Julia, "this charm of novelty is lost to us."

"Let us put it to the vote," said Nelly, eagerly. "Shall we buy it?"

"First of all, let us see it," interposed Bramleigh. "Today I have to
make my visit to the authorities. I have to present myself before the
great officials, and announce that I have come to be the representative
of the last joint of the British lion's tail; but that he, being a great
beast of wonderful strength and terrific courage, to touch a hair of him
is temerity itself."

"And they will believe you?" asked Julia.

"Of course, they will. It would be very hard that we should not
survive in the memories of people who live in lonely spots, and read no
newspapers."

"Such a place for vegetation I never saw," cried Nelly. "There are
no glass windows in the hall, but through the ornamental ironwork the
oranges and limes pierce through and hang in great clusters; the whole
covered with the crimson acanthus and the blue japonica, till the very
brilliancy of color actually dazzles you."

"We 'll write a great book up there, George,--'Cattaro under the Doges:'
or shall it be a romance?" said Bramleigh.

"I 'm for a diary," said Julia, "where each of us shall contribute his
share of life among the wild-olives."

"Ju's right," cried Nelly; "and as I have no gift of authorship, I'll be
the public."

"No, you shall be the editor, dearest," said Julia. "He is always like
the Speaker in the House,--the person who does the least, and endures
the most."

"All this does not lead us to any decision," said L'Estrange. "Shall
I go up there all alone, and report to you this evening what I see and
what I think of the place?"

This proposal was at once acceded to; and now they