“Oh!” exclaimed Cecily, with a laugh, “I’m quite sure Mr. Mallard has no desire to go to the English cemetery.”  She added in explanation, to Mallard himself, “My aunt has promised to visit a certain grave, and copy the inscription for a friend at Florence.”

Whilst she was speaking, Mrs. Lessingham and Eleanor returned.  Mallard, rising, looked at Miriam with a singular smile; then talked a little longer, and, with a promise to come again, soon took his leave.

“Don’t disappoint us,” said Cecily to Miriam, in the most natural tone.

“It was only that I felt we were making Mr. Mallard’s visit very short,” answered Miriam, constrained by shame.

“He detests ceremony.  You couldn’t please him better than by saying, ‘Please don’t hinder me now, but come when I’m at leisure.’”

It was peculiarly distasteful to Miriam to have information concerning the artist’s character offered her by Cecily, in spite of the playful tone.  During the drive, she persuaded herself that Cecily’s improved spirits were entirely due to the conversation with Mallard, and this stirred fresh resentment in her.  She had foreseen the effect upon her own feelings of the meeting which had just come about; it was extreme folly, but she could not control it.

The next day Mallard brought his picture again to the hotel, and spent nearly an hour with Mrs. Lessingham and Cecily in their sitting-room.  Miriam heard of this on her return from a. solitary walk, and heard, moreover, that Mallard had been showing his friends a number of little drawings which he had never offered to let her or the Spences see.  In the afternoon she again went out by herself, and, whilst looking into a shop-window in the Piazza di Spagna, became aware of Mallard’s face reflected in the glass.  She drew aside before looking round at him.

“That is a clever piece of work,” he said, indicating a water-colour in the window, and speaking as if they had already been in conversation.  He had not even made the hat-salute.

“I thought so,” Miriam replied, very coldly, looking at something else.

“Are you going home, Mrs. Baske?”

“Yes.  I only came out to buy something.”

“I am just going to see the studio of an Italian to whom Mr. Seaborne introduced me yesterday.  It’s in the Quattro-Fontane.  Would it interest you?”

“Thank you, Mr. Mallard; I had rather not go this afternoon.”

He accepted the refusal with a courteous smile, raised his hat in approved manner, and turned to cross the Piazza as she went her way.

This evening they had a visit from Seaborne, who met Mrs. Lessingham and Cecily for the first time.  These ladies were predisposed to like him, and before he left they did so genuinely.  In his pleasantly quiet way, he showed much respectful admiration of Mrs. Elgar.

“Now, isn’t there a resemblance to Mr. Mallard?” asked Eleanor, when the visitor was gone.