cliffs
along the sea-front. A vast garden planted for Nature's joy; a
pleasance of the gods; a haunt of the spirit of beauty set between
sun-smitten crags and the enchanted shore.

"Heaven be praised that you forced me to come!" muttered Elgar, in his
choking throat.

Mallard could say nothing. He had looked upon this scene before, but it
affected him none the less.

They drove into the town of Tasso, and to an inn which stood upon the
edge of a profound gorge, cloven towards the sea-cliffs. Sauntering in
the yard whilst dinner was made ready, they read an inscription on a
homely fountain:

"Sordibus abstersis, instructo marmore, priscus Fons nitet, et manat
gratior unda tibi."

"Eternal gratitude to our old schoolmasters," cried Elgar, "who
thrashed us through the Eton Latin grammar! What is Italy to the man
who cannot share our feelings as we murmur that distich? I marvel that
I was allowed to learn this heathen tongue. Had my parents known what
it would mean to me, I should never have chanted my _hic, haec, hoc_."

He was at his best this afternoon; Mallard could scarcely identify him
with the reckless, and sometimes vulgar, spendthrift who had been
rushing his way to ruin in London. His talk abounded in quotation, in
literary allusion, in high-spirited jest, in poetical feeling. When had
he read so much? What a memory he had! In a world that consisted of but
one sex, what a fine fellow he would have been!

"What do you think of my sister?" he asked, _a propos_ of nothing, as
they idled about the Capo di Sorrento and on the road to Massa.

"An absurd question."

"You mean that I cannot suppose you would tell me the truth."

"And just as little the untruth. I do not know your sister."

"We had a horrible scene that day I turned up. I behaved brutally to
her, poor girl."

"I'm afraid you have often done so."

"Often. I rave at her superstition; how can she help it? But she's a
good girl, and has wit enough if she might use it. Oh, if some
generous, large-brained man would drag her out of that slough of
despond!--What a marriage that was! Powers of darkness, what a
marriage!"

Mallard was led to no question.

"I shall never understand it, never," went on Elgar, in excitement. "If
you had seen that oily beast! I don't know what criterion girls have.
Several of my acquaintance have made marriages that set my hair on end.
Lives thrown away in accursed ignorance--that's my belief."

Mallard waited for