ess, to have made me more careful as to what I said next; but all
I can say is that it did n't. I presently observed that just after
leaving her the evening before, and after hearing her apply to her
husband's writings the epithet I had already quoted, I had, on going up
to my room, sat down to the perusal of those sheets of his new book
which he had been so good as to lend me. I had sat entranced till nearly
three in the morning. I had read them twice over. "You say you have n't
looked at them. I think it 's such a pity you should n't Do let me beg
you to take them up. They are so very remarkable. I 'm sure they will
convert you. They place him in--really--such a dazzling light. All that
is best in him is there. I have no doubt it's a great liberty, my saying
all this; but excuse me, and _do_ read them!"

"Do read them, mamma!" Dolcino repeated; "do read them!"

She bent her head and closed his lips with a kiss. "Of course I know he
has worked immensely over them," she said; and after this she made no
remark, but sat there looking thoughtful, with her eyes on the ground.
The tone of these last words was such as to leave me no spirit for
further pressure, and after expressing a fear that her husband had not
found the doctor at home, I got up and took a turn about the grounds.
When I came back, ten minutes later, she was still in her place watching
her boy, who had fallen asleep in her lap. As I drew near she put her
finger to her lips, and a moment afterwards she rose, holding the
child, and murmured something about its being better that he should go
upstairs. I offered to carry him, and held out my hands to take him;
but she thanked me and turned away with the child seated on her arm, his
head on her shoulder. "I am very strong," she said, as she passed into
the house, and her slim, flexible figure bent backwards with the filial
weight So I never touched Dolcino.

I betook myself to Ambient's study, delighted to have a quiet hour to
look over his books by myself. The windows were open into the garden;
the sunny stillness, the mild light of the English summer, filled the
room, without quite chasing away the rich dusky tone which was a part
of its charm, and which abode in the serried shelves where old
morocco exhaled the fragrance of curious learning, and in the brighter
intervals, where medals and prints and miniatures were suspended upon a
surface of faded stuff. The place had both color and quiet; I thought it
a pe