“She is so young,” I said apologetically, “and besides, I don’t think you could expect her to go quite away and leave us here together, you know.  She would naturally have foolish ideas.  She doesn’t know anything about our irrevocable Past.”

“Why should she care?” asked Mr. Mafferton hypocritically.

“Oh,” I said.  “I don’t know, I’m sure.  Only Mrs. Portheris——­”

“She is certainly a charming girl,” said Mr. Mafferton.

“And so well brought up,” said I.

“Ye-es.  Perhaps a little self-contained.”

“She has no need to rely upon her conversation.”  I observed.

“I don’t know.  The fact is——­”

“What is the fact?” I asked softly.  “After all that has passed I think I may claim your confidence, Mr. Mafferton.”  I had some difficulty afterwards in justifying this, but it seemed entirely appropriate at the time.

“The fact is, that up to three weeks ago I believed Miss Portheris to be the incarnation of so many unassuming virtues and personal charms that I was almost ready to make a fresh bid for domestic happiness in her society.  I have for some time wished to marry——­”

“I know,” I said sympathetically.

“But during the last three weeks I have become a little uncertain.”

“There shouldn’t be the slightest uncertainty,” I observed.

“Marriage in England is such a permanent institution.”

“I have known it to last for years even in the United States,” I sighed.

“And it is a serious responsibility to undertake to reciprocate in full the devotion of an attached wife.”

“I fancy Isabel is a person of strong affections,” I said; “one notices it with her mother.  And any one who could dote on Mrs. Portheris would certainly——­”

“I fear so,” said Mr. Mafferton.

“I understand,” I continued, “why you hesitate.  And really, feeling as you do, I wouldn’t be precipitate.”

“I won’t,” he said.

“Watch the state of your own heart,” I counselled, “for some little time.  You may be sure that hers will not alter;” and, as we said good-night, I further suggested that it would be a kindness if Mr. Mafferton would join my lonely parent in the smoking-room.

I don’t know what happened on the balcony after that.

CHAPTER XVI.

“Mamma,” said Isabel, as we gathered in the hotel vestibule for the start to Pompeii, “is really not fit to undertake it.”

“You’ll excuse me, Aunt Caroline,” remarked the Senator, “but your complexion isn’t by any means right yet.  It’s a warm day and a long drive.  Just as likely as not you’ll be down sick after it.”

“Stuff!” said Mrs. Portheris.  “I thank my stars I have got no enfeebled American constitution.  I am perfectly equal to it, thank you.”

“It’s most unwise,” observed Mr. Mafferton.