She sighed at first, as she looked at these things, and then smiled with rather an air of triumph, and, coming to where Agnes reclined on the wall, held them up playfully before her.

“See here, little one!” she said.

“Oh, what pretty things!—­where did they come from?” said Agnes, innocently.

“Where did they?  Sure enough!  Little did you or any one else know old Elsie had things like these!  But she meant her little Agnes should hold up her head with the best.  No girl in Sorrento will have such wedding finery as this?”

“Wedding finery, grandmamma,” said Agnes, faintly,—­“what does that mean?”

“What does that mean, sly-boots?  Ah, you know well enough!  What were you and Antonio talking about all the time this morning?  Did he not ask you to marry him?”

“Yes, grandmamma; but I told him I was not going to marry.  You promised me, dear grandmother, right here, the other night, that I should not marry till I was willing; and I told Antonio I was not willing.”

“The girl says but true, sister,” said the monk; “you remember you gave her your word that she should not be married till she gave her consent willingly.”

“But, Agnes, my pretty one, what can be the objection?” said old Elsie, coaxingly.  “Where will you find a better-made man, or more honest, or more kind?—­and he is handsome;—­and you will have a home that all the girls will envy.”

“Grandmamma, remember, you promised me,—­you promised me,” said Agnes, looking distressed, and speaking earnestly.

“Well, well, child! but can’t I ask a civil question, if I did?  What is your objection to Antonio?”

“Only that I don’t want to be married.”

“Now you know, child,” said Elsie, “I never will consent to your going to a convent.  You might as well put a knife through my old heart as talk to me of that.  And if you don’t go, you must marry somebody; and who could be better than Antonio?”

“Oh, grandmamma, am I not a good girl?  What have I done, that you are so anxious to get me away from you?” said Agnes.  “I like Antonio well enough, but I like you ten thousand times better.  Why cannot we live together just as we do now?  I am strong.  I can work a great deal harder than I do.  You ought to let me work more, so that you need not work so hard and tire yourself,—­let me carry the heavy basket, and dig round the trees.”

“Pooh! a pretty story!” said Elsie.  “We are two lone women, and the times are unsettled; there are robbers and loose fellows about, and we want a protector.”

“And is not the good Lord our protector?—­has He not always kept us, grandmother?” said Agnes.

“Oh, that’s well enough to say, but folks can’t always get along so;—­it’s far better trusting the Lord with a good strong man about,—­like Antonio, for instance.  I should like to see the man that would dare be uncivil to his wife.  But go your ways,—­it’s no use toiling away one’s life for children, who, after all, won’t turn their little finger for you.”