“It comes to the same thing, indeed,” Mrs Durant said, indignantly; “for when they go to the native place of worship, they don’t understand. Even I, that have been so long on the Continent, I can’t follow the service.” “But papa can,” said Tasie. “Ah, papa--papa is much more highly educated than I could ever pretend to be; and besides, he is a theologian, and knows. There were quite half-a-dozen people, evidently English, whom I saw with my own eyes coming out of the chapel on the Marina. Oh, don’t say anything, Tasie! I think, in a foreign place, where the English have a character to keep up, it is quite a sin.” “You know, mamma, they think nobody knows them,” Tasie said. Mrs Gaunt did not care so much who attended church; but when she found that Constance had, as she told the General, “really nothing to say for herself,” she too dropped into her habitual mode of talk. She did her best in the first place to elicit the opinions of Constance about Bordighera and the climate, about how she thought Mr Waring looking, and if dear Frances was not far stronger than she used to be. But when these judicious inquiries failed of a response, Mrs Gaunt almost turned her back upon Constance. “I have had a letter from Katie, my dear,” she said. “Have you indeed? I hope she is quite well--and the babies?” “Oh, the babies; they are always well. But poor Katie, she has been a great sufferer. I told you she had a touch of fever, by last mail. Now it is her liver. You are never safe from your liver in India. She had been up to the hills, and there she met Douglas, who had gone to settle his wife and children. His wife is a poor little creature, always ailing; and their second boy---- But, dear me, I have not told you my great news! Frances--George is coming home! He is coming by Brindisi and Venice, and will be here directly. I told him I was sure all my kind neighbours would be so glad to see him; and it will be so nice for him--don’t you think?--to see Italy on his way.” “Oh, very nice,” said Frances. “And you must be very happy, both the General and you.” “The General does not say much, but he is just as happy as I am. Fancy! by next mail! in another week!” The poor lady dried her eyes, and added, laughing, sobbing, “Only think--in a week--my youngest boy!” “Do you mean to say,” said Constance, when Mrs Gaunt was gone, “that you have made them believe you care? Oh, that is exactly like mamma. She makes people think she is quite happy and quite miserable about their affairs, when she does not care one little bit! What is this woman’s youngest son to you?” “But she is---- I have been here all my life. I am glad that she should be happy,” cried Frances, suddenly placed upon her defence.