er own house, and build
them a chapel on the site, of course at her own expense. The ground
being her freehold, she can unfortunately do what she likes with it;
the same with her personal property. The thing has gone so far that a
Manchester firm of architects have prepared plans; they are lying about
in her room here."

Mallard regarded the speaker with humorous wonder.

"And the fact is," pursued Spence, "that such an undertaking as this
will impoverish her. She is not so wealthy as to be able to lay out
thousands of pounds and leave her position unaltered."

"I suppose she lives only for her religious convictions?"

"I don't profess to understand her. Her character is not easily
sounded. But no doubt she has the puritanical spirit in a rather rare
degree. I daily thank the fates that my wife grew up apart from that
branch of the family. Of all the accursed--But this is an old topic;
better not to beat one's self uselessly."

"A Puritan at Naples," mused Mallard. "The situation is interesting."

"Very. But then she doesn't really live in Naples. From the first day
she has shown herself bent on resisting every influence of the place.
She won't admit that the climate benefits her; she won't allow an
expression of interest in anything Italian to escape her. I doubt
whether we shall ever get her even to Pompeii. One afternoon I
persuaded her to walk up here with me, and tried to make her confess
that this view was beautiful. She grudged making any such admission. It
is her nature to _distrust_ the beautiful."

"To be sure. That is the badge of her persuasion."

"Last Sunday we didn't know whether to compassionate her or to be angry
with her. The Bradshaws are at Mrs. Gluck's. You know them by name, I
think I There again, an interesting study, in a very different way.
Twice in the day she shut herself up with them in their rooms, and they
held a dissident service. The hours she spent here were passed in the
solitude of her own room, lest she should witness our profane enjoyment
of the fine weather. Eleanor refrained from touching the piano, and at
meals kept the gravest countenance, in mere kindness. I doubt whether
that is right. It isn't as though we were dealing with a woman whose
mind is hopelessly--immatured; she is only a girl still, and I know she
has brains if she could be induced to use them."

"Mrs. Baske has a remarkable face, it seems to me," said Mallard.

"It enrages me to talk of the matter."

T