"
"Did you know him before you came?"
"No."
"Oh! Who is he?"
"A native of the place."
The second silence took place. They had left the plain
now and were climbing up the outposts of the hills, the
olive-trees still accompanying. The driver, a jolly fat
man, had got out to ease the horses, and was walking by the
side of the carriage.
"I understood they met at the hotel."
"It was a mistake of Mrs. Theobald's."
"I also understand that he is a member of the Italian nobility."
She did not reply.
"May I be told his name?"
Miss Abbott whispered, "Carella." But the driver heard
her, and a grin split over his face. The engagement must be
known already.
"Carella? Conte or Marchese, or what?"
"Signor," said Miss Abbott, and looked helplessly aside.
"Perhaps I bore you with these questions. If so, I will
stop."
"Oh, no, please; not at all. I am here--my own idea--to
give all information which you very naturally--and to see if
somehow--please ask anything you like."
"Then how old is he?"
"Oh, quite young. Twenty-one, I believe."
There burst from Philip the exclamation, "Good Lord!"
"One would never believe it," said Miss Abbott,
flushing. "He looks much older."
"And is he good-looking?" he asked, with gathering sarcasm.
She became decisive. "Very good-looking. All his
features are good, and he is well built--though I dare say
English standards would find him too short."
Philip, whose one physical advantage was his height,
felt annoyed at her implied indifference to it.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42