, giving him the tips of her
fingers for a moment, and then transferring them to the more congenial
contact of the lap-dog's silken coat. "I hope you are quite well and
have made satisfactory progress at college."

Arthur murmured the first commonplace that he could think of at the
moment, and relapsed into uncomfortable silence. The arrival of
James, in his most pompous mood and accompanied by a stiff, elderly
shipping-agent, did not improve matters; and when Gibbons announced that
dinner was served, Arthur rose with a little sigh of relief.

"I won't come to dinner, Julia. If you'll excuse me I will go to my
room."

"You're overdoing that fasting, my boy," said Thomas; "I am sure you'll
make yourself ill."

"Oh, no! Good-night."

In the corridor Arthur met the under housemaid and asked her to knock at
his door at six in the morning.

"The signorino is going to church?"

"Yes. Good-night, Teresa."

He went into his room. It had belonged to his mother, and the alcove
opposite the window had been fitted up during her long illness as an
oratory. A great crucifix on a black pedestal occupied the middle of the
altar; and before it hung a little Roman lamp. This was the room where
she had died. Her portrait was on the wall beside the bed; and on the
table stood a china bowl which had been hers, filled with a great bunch
of her favourite violets. It was just a year since her death; and the
Italian servants had not forgotten her.

He took out of his portmanteau a framed picture, carefully wrapped up.
It was a crayon portrait of Montanelli, which had come from Rome only a
few days before. He was unwrapping this precious treasure when Julia's
page brought in a supper-tray on which the old Italian cook, who had
served Gladys before the harsh, new mistress came, had placed such
little delicacies as she considered her dear signorino might permit
himself to eat without infringing the rules of the Church. Arthur
refused everything but a piece of bread; and the page, a nephew of
Gibbons, lately arrived from England, grinned significantly as he
carried out the tray. He had already joined the Protestant camp in the
servants' hall.

Arthur went into the alcove and knelt down before the crucifix, trying
to compose his mind to the proper attitude for prayer and meditation.
But this he found difficult to accomplish. He had, as Thomas said,
rather overdone the Lenten privations, and they had gone to his head
like strong wine. L