of lapping oars. "Madge, you ought to
have some poetry to fit this."

"I know enough verses about Venice," replied Margery, whose eyes were
dancing with joyous excitement, and who was trailing her little hot hand
through the cool water, "but nothing fits. Nothing can fit; for who
could ever put into words the beauty of all this?"

By and by they left the Grand Canal, passed through narrower ones, with
such high walls on either side that twilight rapidly succeeded the
sunset glow; floated beneath the Bridge of Sighs, and were at the steps
of their hotel.

The next few days were devoted wholly to drinking in the spirit of
Venice. Mr. Sumner hired gondolas which should be at the service of his
party during the month they were to spend there, and morning, noon, and
night found them revelling in this delight. They went to San Marco in
early morning and late afternoon; fed the pigeons in the Piazza; ate
ice-cream under its Colonnade; went to the Lido, and floated along the
Grand Canal beside the music and beneath the moonlight for hours at
night, and longed to be there until the morning.

Barbara grew stronger, the color returned to her cheeks, and though she
often felt unhappy, she was better able to conceal it. She began to hope
that her secret was safe; that it would never be discovered by any one;
that Mr. Sumner would never dream of it. If only that dreadful
suggestion of Malcom's might be wholly without foundation; and perhaps,
after all, it was. She thought she would surely know when Lucile Sherman
should come to Venice, as she would do soon.

At length Mr. Sumner suggested that they begin to study Venetian
painting, and that, for it, they should first visit the Accademia delle
Belle Arti. He advised them to read what they could about early Venetian
painting.

"You will find," he said, "that the one strongest characteristic of all
the painting that has emanated from Venice is beauty and strength of
color, the keynote of which seems to have been struck in the first
mosaic decorations of San Marco, more than eight centuries ago. And how
could it be otherwise in a city so flooded with radiance of color and
light!"

"I have brought you here," said he one morning, as they left their
gondolas at the steps of the Academy, "for the special study of
Carpaccio's and the Bellinis' works.

"But," he added, as they entered the building and stepped into the
first room, "I would like you to stop for a few minutes and look