Freed from the constraint of formal colloquy, and overcoming the slight
embarrassment caused by what she knew of Miriam's thoughts, Cecily
revealed her nature as it lay beneath the graces with which education
had endowed her. This enthusiasm was no new discovery to Miriam, but in
the early days it had attached itself to far other things. Cecily
seemed to have forgotten that she was ever in sympathy with the mood
which imposed silence on her friend. Her eyes drank light from the
landscape; her beauty was transfigured by passionate reception of all
the influences this scene could exercise upon heart and mind. She
leaned on the railing of the balcony, and gazed until tears of ecstasy
made her sight dim.

"Let us see much of each other whilst we are here," she said suddenly,
turning to Miriam. "I could never have dreamt of our being together in
Italy; it is a happy fate, and gives me all kinds of hope. We will be
often alone together in glorious places. We will talk it over; that is
better than writing. You shall understand me, Miriam. You shall get as
well and strong as I am, and know what I mean when I speak of the joy
of living. We shall be sisters again, like we used to be."

Miriam smiled and shook her head.

"Tell me about things at home. Is Miss Baske well?"

"Quite well. I have had two letters from her since I was here. She
wished me to give you her love."

"I will write to her. And is old Don still alive?"

"Yes, but very feeble, poor old fellow. He forgets even to be angry
with the baker's boy."

Cecily laughed with a moved playfulness.

"He has forgotten me. I don't like to be forgotten by any one who ever
cared for me."

There was a pause. They came back into the room, and Cecily, with a
look of hesitation, asked quietly,--

"Have you heard of late from Reuben?"

Miriam, with averted eyes, answered simply, "No." Again there was
silence, until Cecily, moving about the room, came to the "St. Cecilia."

"So my patron saint is always before you. I am glad of that. Where is
the original of this picture, Miriam? I forget."

"I never knew."

"Oh, I wished to speak to you of Mr. Mallard. You met him yesterday.
Had you much conversation?"

"A good deal. He dined with us."

"Did he? I thought it possible. And do you like him?"

"I couldn't say until I knew him better."

"It isn't easy to know him, I think," said Cecily, in a reflective and
perfectly natural tone, smiling thoughtfully. "But he is a