's friendly little gaze gradually kindled the spark of my
inspiration. What helped it to glow were the other influences,--the
silent, suggestive garden-nook, the perfect opportunity (if it was not
an opportunity for that, it was an opportunity for nothing), and the
plea that I speak of, which issued from the child's eyes, and seemed to
make him say, "The mother that bore me and that presses me here to her
bosom--sympathetic little organism that I am--has really the kind of
sensibility which she has been represented to you as lacking; if you
only look for it patiently and respectfully. How is it possible that she
should n't have it? How is it possible that I should have so much of
it (for I am quite full of it, dear, strange gentleman), if it were not
also in some degree in her? I am my father's child, but I am also my
mother's, and I am sorry for the difference between them!" So it shaped
itself before me, the vision of reconciling Mrs. Ambient with her
husband, of putting an end to their great disagreement The project was
absurd, of course, for had I not had his word for it--spoken with
all the bitterness of experience--that the gulf that divided them was
wellnigh bottomless? Nevertheless, a quarter of an hour after Mark had
left us, I said to his wife that I could n't get over what she told
me the night before about her thinking her husband's writings
"objectionable." I had been so very sorry to hear it, had thought of it
constantly, and wondered whether it were not possible to make her change
her mind. Mrs. Ambient gave me rather a cold stare; she seemed to be
recommending me to mind my own business. I wish I had taken this mute
counsel, but I did not. I went on to remark that it seemed an immense
pity so much that was beautiful should be lost upon her.

"Nothing is lost upon me," said Mrs. Ambient "I know they are very
beautiful."

"Don't you like papa's books?" Dolcino asked, addressing his mother, but
still looking at me. Then he added to me, "Won't you read them to me,
American gentleman?"

"I would rather tell you some stories of my own," I said. "I know
some that are very interesting." "When will you tell them? To-morrow?"
"To-morrow, with pleasure, if that suits you." Mrs. Ambient was silent
at this. Her husband, during our walk, had asked me to remain another
day; my promise to her son was an implication that I had consented, and
it is not probable that the prospect was agreeable to her. This ought,
doubtl