excursions which were taken for her benefit. At
this time there had come to be a direct quarrel between Lady Tringle
and the Marchesa, which, however, had arisen altogether on the part
of Augusta. Augusta had forced her mother to declare that she was
insulted, and then there was no more visiting between them. This had
been sad enough for Ayala, who had struck up an intimacy with the
Marchesa's daughters. But the Marchesa had explained to her that
there was no help for it. "It won't do for you to separate yourself
from your aunt," she had said. "Of course we shall be friends, and
at some future time you shall come and see us." So there had been a
division, and Ayala would have been quite alone had she declined the
proffered companionship of Gertrude.

Within the walls and arches and upraised terraces of the Coliseum
they were joined one day by young Hamel, the sculptor, who had not,
as yet, gone back to London,--and had not, as yet, met Lucy in the
gardens at Kensington; and with him there had been one Frank Houston,
who had made acquaintance with Lady Tringle, and with the Tringles
generally, since they had been at Rome. Frank Houston was a young man
of family, with a taste for art, very good-looking, but not specially
well off in regard to income. He had heard of the good fortune of
Septimus Traffick in having prepared for himself a connection with so
wealthy a family as the Tringles, and had thought it possible that a
settlement in life might be comfortable for himself. What few soft
words he had hitherto been able to say to Gertrude had been taken
in good part, and when, therefore, they met among the walls of the
Coliseum, she had naturally straggled away to see some special wonder
which he had a special aptitude for showing. Hamel remained with
Ayala and Tom, talking of the old days at the bijou, till he found
himself obliged to leave them. Then Tom had his opportunity.

"Ayala," he said, "all this must be altered."

"What must be altered?"

"If you only knew, Ayala, how much you are to me."

"I wish you wouldn't, Tom. I don't want to be anything to anybody in
particular."

"What I mean is, that I won't have them sit upon you. They treat
you as--as,--well, as though you had only half a right to be one of
them."

"No more I have. I have no right at all."

"But that's not the way I want it to be. If you were my wife--"

"Tom, pray don't."

"Why not? I'm in earnest. Why ain't I to speak as I think? Oh, Aya