Rowland listened to all this with a huge compassion for the heroine of the tale.  What an education, what a history, what a school of character and of morals!  He looked at the prince and wondered whether he too had heard Mrs. Light’s story.  If he had he was a brave man.  “I certainly hope you ’ll keep him,” he said to Mrs. Light.  “You have played a dangerous game with your daughter; it would be a pity not to win.  But there is hope for you yet; here she comes at last!”

Christina reappeared as he spoke these words, strolling beside her companion with the same indifferent tread with which she had departed.  Rowland imagined that there was a faint pink flush in her cheek which she had not carried away with her, and there was certainly a light in Roderick’s eyes which he had not seen there for a week.

“Bless my soul, how they are all looking at us!” she cried, as they advanced.  “One would think we were prisoners of the Inquisition!” And she paused and glanced from the prince to her mother, and from Rowland to the Cavaliere, and then threw back her head and burst into far-ringing laughter.  “What is it, pray?  Have I been very improper?  Am I ruined forever?  Dear prince, you are looking at me as if I had committed the unpardonable sin!”

“I myself,” said the prince, “would never have ventured to ask you to walk with me alone in the country for an hour!”

“The more fool you, dear prince, as the vulgar say!  Our walk has been charming.  I hope you, on your side, have enjoyed each other’s society.”

“My dear daughter,” said Mrs. Light, taking the arm of her predestined son-in-law, “I shall have something serious to say to you when we reach home.  We will go back to the carriage.”

“Something serious!  Decidedly, it is the Inquisition.  Mr. Hudson, stand firm, and let us agree to make no confessions without conferring previously with each other!  They may put us on the rack first.  Mr. Mallet, I see also,” Christina added, “has something serious to say to me!”

Rowland had been looking at her with the shadow of his lately-stirred pity in his eyes.  “Possibly,” he said.  “But it must be for some other time.”

“I am at your service.  I see our good-humor is gone.  And I only wanted to be amiable!  It is very discouraging.  Cavaliere, you, only, look as if you had a little of the milk of human kindness left; from your venerable visage, at least; there is no telling what you think.  Give me your arm and take me away!”

The party took its course back to the carriage, which was waiting in the grounds of the villa, and Rowland and Roderick bade their friends farewell.  Christina threw herself back in her seat and closed her eyes; a manoeuvre for which Rowland imagined the prince was grateful, as it enabled him to look at her without seeming to depart from his attitude of distinguished disapproval.  Rowland found himself aroused from sleep early the next morning, to see Roderick standing before him, dressed for departure, with his bag in his hand.  “I am off,” he said.  “I am back to work.  I have an idea.  I must strike while the iron ’s hot!  Farewell!” And he departed by the first train.  Rowland went alone by the next.