ng foliage of the poplars; Camaldoli and its neighbour
heights stood gorgeously enrobed. In itself, a picture so beautiful
that the eye wearied with delight; in its memories, a source of solemn
joy, inexhaustible for ever.

"I suppose," said Mallard, in the undertone of reflection, "the pagan
associations of Naples are a great obstacle to Mrs. Baske's enjoyment
of the scenery."

"She admits that."

"By-the-bye, what are likely to be the relations between her and Miss
Doran?"

"I have wondered. They seem to keep on terms of easy correspondence.
But doesn't Cecily herself throw any light on that point?"

Mallard made a pause before answering.

"You must remember that I know very little of her. I have never spoken
more intimately with her than you yourself have. Naturally, since she
has ceased to be a child, I have kept my distance. In fact, I shall be
heartily glad when the next three years are over, and we can shake
hands with a definite good-bye."

"What irritates you?" inquired Spence, with a smile which recognized a
phase of his friend's character.

"The fact of my position. A nice thing for a fellow like me to have
charge of a fortune! It oppresses me--the sense of responsibility; I
want to get the weight off my shoulders. What the deuce did her father
mean by burdening me in this way?"

"He foresaw nothing of the kind," said Spence, amused. "Only the
unlikely event of Trench's death left you sole trustee. If Doran
purposed anything at all--why, who knows what it may have been?"

Mallard refused to meet the other's look; his eyes were fixed on the
horizon.

"All the same, the event was possible, and he should have chosen
another man of business. It's worse than being rich on my own account.
I have dreams of a national repudiation of debt; I imagine
dock-companies failing and banks stopping payment. It disturbs my work;
I am tired of it. Why can't I transfer the affair to some trustworthy
and competent person; yourself, for instance? Why didn't Doran select
you, to begin with--the natural man to associate with Trench?"

"Who never opened a book save his ledger; who was the model of a
reputable dealer in calicoes; who--"

"I apologize," growled Mallard. "But you know in what sense I spoke."

"Pray, what has Cecily become since I saw her in London?" asked the
other, after a pause, during which he smiled his own interpretation of
Mallard's humour.

"A very superior young person, I assure you," was the