t
over her face with quick change; they did so now.

Meanwhile people had forgotten the old cathedral. Christina seemed
unaffectedly glad at the meeting with her friend of the school days.

"I'm so delighted," she said, drawing Dolly a little apart. "Where are
you? where do you come from, I mean? How come you to be here?"

"We come from Dresden; we are on our way"----

"You are living in London, aren't you? I heard that. It's too good to
meet you so! for Europe is full of people, no doubt, but there are very
few that I care for. Oh, tell me where you are going?"

"Venice first."

"And further south? you are going on into Italy?"

"Yes, I think so."

"That's delightful. Oh, there's nothing like Italy! It is not your
wedding journey, Dolly?"--with a glance at the very handsome young man
who was standing in waiting a few paces off.

"What are you thinking of!" cried Dolly. "Christina, we are travelling
for mother's health."

"Oh, well, I didn't suppose it; but it might be, you know; it will be,
before you know it. It isn't _mine_, either; though it only wants two
things of it. Oh, I want to tell you all about myself, Dolly, and I
want to show you somebody; I have got somebody to show, you see. You
will come and make us a visit, will you not? Oh, you must! I must have
you."

"You said it wanted only _two things_ of being your wedding journey?
What things?"

"The presence of the gentleman, and the performance of the ceremony."
And as Christina said it, a delicate peach-blossom bloom ripened in her
cheeks; you could hardly say that she blushed. "Oh, the gentleman is
somewhere, though he is not here," she went on, with that ripple of
laughter; "and the ceremony is somewhere in the distance, too. I want
you to see him, Dolly. I am proud of him. I think everything in the
world of him."

"I suppose I may know his name?"

"Christina," cried Mrs. Thayer, "where are you? My dear, we cannot
stand here and talk all the afternoon; our friends have got to see the
church. Isn't it a delicious old place? Just go round and examine
things; I could stay here for ever. Every little place where there is
room for it is filled with the quaintest, queerest, charmingest
paintings. Where there is room for it, there is a group; and where
there is not a group, there is an apostle or a saint; and where there
is not room for that, there is something else, which this
unintelligible old guide will explain to you. And think--for years a