ation, both for
consistency and for moral enthusiasm, would be lost for ever.

"It's hard luck on her," he thought. "She is a good person. I must do
for her anything I can." Their intimacy had been very rapid, but he too
hoped that it would not shift. He believed that he understood her,
and that she, by now, had seen the worst of him. What if after a
long time--if after all--he flushed like a boy as he looked after her
carriage.

He went into the dining-room to look for Harriet. Harriet was not to
be found. Her bedroom, too, was empty. All that was left of her was
the purple prayer-book which lay open on the bed. Philip took it up
aimlessly, and saw--"Blessed be the Lord my God who teacheth my hands to
war and my fingers to fight." He put the book in his pocket, and began
to brood over more profitable themes.

Santa Deodata gave out half past eight. All the luggage was on, and
still Harriet had not appeared. "Depend upon it," said the landlady,
"she has gone to Signor Carella's to say good-bye to her little nephew."
Philip did not think it likely. They shouted all over the house and
still there was no Harriet. He began to be uneasy. He was helpless
without Miss Abbott; her grave, kind face had cheered him wonderfully,
even when it looked displeased. Monteriano was sad without her; the rain
was thickening; the scraps of Donizetti floated tunelessly out of the
wineshops, and of the great tower opposite he could only see the base,
fresh papered with the advertisements of quacks.

A man came up the street with a note. Philip read, "Start at once. Pick
me up outside the gate. Pay the bearer. H. H."

"Did the lady give you this note?" he cried.

The man was unintelligible.

"Speak up!" exclaimed Philip. "Who gave it you--and where?"

Nothing but horrible sighings and bubblings came out of the man.

"Be patient with him," said the driver, turning round on the box. "It is
the poor idiot." And the landlady came out of the hotel and echoed "The
poor idiot. He cannot speak. He takes messages for us all."

Philip then saw that the messenger was a ghastly creature, quite bald,
with trickling eyes and grey twitching nose. In another country he would
have been shut up; here he was accepted as a public institution, and
part of Nature's scheme.

"Ugh!" shuddered the Englishman. "Signora padrona, find out from him;
this note is from my sister. What does it mean? Where did he see her?"

"It is no good," said the landlady. "H