Then, catching sight of her sister’s downcast face, Barbara, in a moment, after her usual fashion, rose above her annoyance and cried:—­

“For shame, Barbara Burnett! to think that you are in Rome, the Eternal City! that you are dressing to go to the Sistine Chapel to look at Michael Angelo’s frescoes! and do you dare to waste a thought on the gown you are to wear!  Oh, Betty! you are ashamed of me, too, I know.—­There, you dear old brown suit!  Forgive me, and I never will do such a mean thing again.  To think of all the lovely places I have been in with you, and now that I should like to cheat you out of seeing Michael Angelo’s frescoes!” and she adjusted the last button with such a comical, half-disgusted expression on her face that Betty burst into a merry laugh.

When the two girls came down stairs and stepped out upon the sidewalk beside which the carriages were waiting, their radiant faces gave not the slightest hint that any annoyance had ever lurked there; and no one, looking into them, would ever give a thought to the worn brown dresses.  No one? not many, at least.  Perhaps Miss Sherman, looking so dainty in her own fresh attire, did.  Anyway, as Mr. Sumner handed her into one of the carriages, and himself springing in, took a seat beside her, she shot a triumphant glance at Barbara, who was seating herself in the other carriage with Bettina and Malcom.  Mrs. Douglas and Margery had gone out on some morning errand and would follow them presently so Miss Sherman was alone with Mr. Sumner.

Robert Sumner was waging quite a battle with himself during these days.  Ever since that night at Perugia, he had found to his utter dismay that he could not put Barbara out of his thoughts.  Indeed, ever after the evening of the birthday party she had assumed to him a distinct individuality.  It seemed as if he had received a revelation of what she was to become.  Every now and then as he saw her at home, the vision of beautiful womanhood that had passed before him that evening would flash into his mind, and the thought would come that sometime, somewhere, she would find him into whose eyes could shine from her own that glorious lovelight that he had for an instant surprised in them.

It had not seemed to him that he then saw the present Barbara, but that which she was to be; and this future Barbara had no special connection with the present one, save to awaken an interest that caused him to be watchful of her.  He had always recognized the charm of her personality,—­her frank enthusiasms, and her rich reserve; the wide outlook and wise judgment of things unusual in one so young.  But now he began to observe other more intimate qualities,—­the wealth of affection bestowed on Bettina and the distant home; her tender regard to the feelings of those about her; her quick resentment of any injustice; her sturdy self-reliance; her sweet, unspoiled, unselfish nature; and her longing for knowledge and all good gifts.