Well I knew when I set out that I had my work before me, and that I should earn my two hundred pounds a year or all were done.  For I had but a couple of years more than my pupil to boast myself upon; and he, having grown up on the Continent, chiefly in Latin cities and German watering-places, was vastly superior to me in the knowledge which comes not easily to the lads from the moors, who at all times know better how to loup a moss-hag than how to make a courtly bow.

Yet for all that I did not mean to be far behind any Border Fenwick when it came to making bows.  Nor, as it happened, was I when all was done.  This confidence was partly owing to full feeding on fine porridge and braxy, but more to that inbred belief of Galloway in itself which the ill-affected and envious nominate its conceit.

Henry Fenwick was abiding in this city of Vico Averso, as I had been informed by his uncle and guardian, for the baths.  He had been advised of my coming, and, like the kindly lad that he proved to be, I found him waiting for me when the diligence arrived.

We met with few words on either side, but I think with instant hearty liking.  My pupil was tall and dark, his hair a little long, yet not falling to his shoulders—­somewhat feminine in type of feature and Italianate in complexion.  But the mouth shewed breeding, the eyes kindliness; and, after all, these are the main features.  I was especially glad to find myself taller than he by a span of inches.

He took me to the hotel where a room had been ordered for me—­not one of the common Italian inns, but a hotel built for the accommodation of foreigners.  As we went up the steps, we passed a lady sitting in the shade with a book.  She was a large fair woman, with sleepy eyes and a mane of bronzed gold hair.  She had been looking at us as we came, I will be bound; but when we passed she became absorbed and unconscious upon her book.

As Henry raised his hat she bowed slightly to him, lifting at the same time her heavy eyelids and glancing at me.  I had once seen that look before—­in a spectacle of wild beasts when I happened to stand close to a drowsing tigress that twitched an eyelid and flashed a yellow eye at me.  In that eye-shot on the verandah of the hotel in Vico Averso, the crossing of glances was like a challenge, and thrilled me as when one is called to fight.  I think we hated one another on the spot; yet for the life of me I could not tell why, save that the woman of the tiger’s glance had a red edge to her heavy eyelids, and no eyelashes that I could see—­which things are not the marks of a good woman, as I take it.  Yet there was no real cause for the bitter and sudden dislike, for, as it chanced, she came but little into our adventures.  For youth, for the sake of change, turns as readily away from evil as from good.

So eager was I to be down and out of doors, that I had hardly time to make disposition of my goods in the room which had been reserved for me.  I threw open the casement.  I hung half out of the window, and satisfied myself with looking upon the still, calm blue of Lago d’Orta beneath, flecked with heavy-bodied craft with deep yellow sails.  My heart all the while was crying out hungrily, “At last! at last!”