a
detail of the phantasmic world through which he struggled against his
_ennui_.

"Childish? Oh dear, no!" he remarked, almost vivaciously. "It is
charming; they are both charming. Really, I'd have some of both, Miss
Denyer."

"Then we certainly will," was Mrs. Denyer's conclusion; and with a
gracious inclination of the head, she left the room, followed by her
daughters. Mr. Musselwhite looked round for another glance at Barbara,
but of course he was just too late.

Poor Madeline, in the meantime, was being sorely tried. Whilst Clifford
Marsh was away at Pompeii, daily "scenes" took place between her and
her mother. Mrs. Denyer would have had her make conciliatory movements,
whereas Madeline, who had not exchanged a word with Clifford since the
parting in wrath, was determined not to be the first to show signs of
yielding. And she held her ground, tearless, resentful, strong in a
sense of her own importance.

When he again took his place at Mrs. Gluck's table, Clifford had the
air of a man who has resigned himself to the lack of sympathy and
appreciation--nay, who defies everything external, and in the strength
of his genius goes serenely onwards. Never had he displayed such
self-consciousness; not for an instant did he forget to regulate the
play of his features. Mrs. Denyer he had greeted distantly; her
daughters, more distantly still. He did not look more than once or
twice in Miss Doran's direction, for Mrs. Denyer's reproof had made him
conscious of an excess in artistic homage. His neighbour being Mr.
Bradshaw, he conversed with him agreeably, smiling seldom. He seemed
neither depressed nor uneasy; his countenance wore a grave and noble
melancholy, now and then illumined with an indescribable ardour.

The Bradshaws had begun to talk of leaving Naples, but this seemed to
be the apology for enjoying themselves which is so characteristic of
English people. Even Mrs. Bradshaw found her life from day to day very
pleasant, and in consequence never saw her friends at the villa without
expressing much uneasiness about affairs at home, and blaming her
husband for making so long a stay. Both of them were now honoured with
the special attention of Mr. Marsh. Clifford was never so much in his
element as when conversing of art and kindred matters with persons who
avowed their deficiencies in that sphere of knowledge, yet were willing
to learn; relieved from the fear of criticism, he expanded, he glowed,
he dogmatized.