And Barbara, of course, was trying to determine whether there was any ground for the suspicions, or rather suggestions, that Malcom gave voice to on that dreadful ride to Sorrento.

And Bettina watched all three; and so did Malcom, after a fashion, but he was less keenly interested than the others.  He sometimes tried to talk with Bettina about the studio incident, but never could he begin to discuss Barbara in the slightest way without encountering her sister’s indignation.

Mrs. Douglas, who had outlived her former wish concerning her brother and Lucile Sherman, and Margery were the only ones who had nothing to hide, and so gave themselves simply to the enjoyment of the occurrences of each hour.

“We must begin to see Tintoretto’s paintings,” said Mr. Sumner at breakfast one fine morning; “and, since the sun shines brightly, I suggest that we go at once to the Scuola di San Rocco, for the only time to see the pictures there is the early morning of a bright day.”

“We must not forget Lucile,” said Mrs. Douglas, with an inquiring look at her brother, “for she asked particularly to go there with us.”

“Then we must call for her of course,” quietly answered he, as all rose from the table.  “We will start at once.”

“I do not believe,” said Bettina, as she and Barbara were in their room putting on their hats a moment afterward, “that Mr. Sumner cares one bit more for Lucile Sherman than for anybody else.”

“Why don’t you think so?” asked Barbara, as she turned aside to find her gloves, which search kept her busy for a minute or two.

“Because he never seems to take any pains to be where she is—­he does not watch for the expression of her eyes—­his voice never changes when he speaks to her,” answered Bettina, slowly, enumerating some of the signs she had observed in Mr. Sumner with respect to Barbara.

Neither of the girls stopped to think how singular it was that Bettina should have watched Mr. Sumner closely enough to make such a positive assertion as this, which, perhaps, is a sufficient commentary on the state of their minds at this time.

After a delightful half hour of gliding through broad and narrow canals, they landed in front of the Church of San Rocco, and passed into the alleyway from which is the entrance of the famous Scuola.  As they stepped into its sumptuous hall, Miss Sherman remarked:—­

“I see that Mr. Ruskin says whatever the traveller may miss in Venice, he should give much time and thought to this building.”

“Mr. Ruskin has championed Tintoretto with the same fervor that he has expended upon Turner,” replied Mr. Sumner, smiling.  “I think we should season his judgments concerning both artists with the ‘grain of salt’.

“But,” continued he, as he saw all were waiting for something further, “there can be no doubt that Tintoretto was a great painter and a notable man.  To read the story of his life,—­his struggles to learn the art,—­his assurance of the worth of his own work, and his colossal ambitions, is as interesting as any romance.”