ur
of its own, for the massive decorations, the heavy furniture, and the
rich brocade curtains all dated from the best period of Louis the
Fourteenth's reign. On the walls there were four or five first-rate
pictures, the largest of which was a magnificent portrait of a former
Chiaromonte by Vandyke; there was a Holy Family by Guercino, another by
Bonifacio, a Magdalen with the box of ointment, by Andrea del Sarto, and
one or two smaller paintings of no inconsiderable value.

But at that hour the light was bad, for the afternoon had turned cold
and rainy after a beautiful morning, and at four o'clock it was still
too early to have lamps. A few moments after the hour, a servant
opened the door, held the curtains aside, and announced the visitor.

'Her Excellency, the Princess Chiaromonte!'

Angela started slightly at the name. The last Princess Chiaromonte who
had passed through that doorway had been her mother, and in her
solitude the girl had not even been told that her uncle had already
assumed the title of the head of the house. The lacquey paid no
attention whatever to the quiet man in black who followed the
Princess, holding his hat against his chest with both hands and
advancing with a bowing motion at every step, as if he were saluting
the family chairs as he passed them. Angela vaguely remembered his
solemnly obsequious face.

Her aunt seemed to have grown taller and larger, as she bent to
imprint a formal kiss on the girl's cheek, and then sat down in one of
the huge old easy-chairs, while the lawyer seated himself at a
respectful distance on an ottoman stool with his high hat on his
knees. Angela took her place at one end of the stiff sofa that stood
directly under the Vandyke portrait, and she waited for her aunt to
speak.

The Princess had evidently prepared herself, for she spoke clearly and
did not pause for some time.

'Your uncle has a slight attack of influenza,' she said; 'otherwise he
would have come with me, and I should have been more than glad if he
himself could have explained the whole situation to you instead of
leaving that painful duty to me. You are well aware, my dear Angela,
that your father always clung to the most prejudiced traditions of the
intransigent clericals, and could never be induced to conform to any
of the new regulations introduced by the Italian Government. In point
of fact, I do not think he quite realised that the old order had
passed away when he was a mere boy, and