He gave her a look of great doubt and trouble. “Oh, Miss Waring, I don’t think you should put it so. My mother finds her pleasure in that--indeed she does. Ask herself. Of course I would not impose upon her, not for the world; but she likes it, I assure you she likes it.” “It is very extraordinary that any one should like sitting in that carriage for hours with nothing to do. I will come with pleasure, Captain Gaunt. I will sit with your mother while you go and take your walk. That will be more cheerful for all parties,” Constance said. Young Gaunt’s face grew half a mile long. He began to expostulate and explain; but Waring’s step was heard stirring in the next room, approaching the door, and the young man had no desire to see the master of the house with his watch in his hand, demanding to know why Domenico was so late. Captain Gaunt knew very well why Domenico was so late. He knew a way of conciliating the servants, though he had not yet succeeded with the young mistress. He said hurriedly, “I will come for you at three,” and rushed away. Waring came in at one door as Gaunt disappeared at the other. The delay of the breakfast was a practical matter, of which, without any reproach of medievalism, he had a right to complain. “If you must have this young fellow every morning, he may at least go away in proper time,” he said, with his watch in his hand, as young Gaunt had divined. “Oh, papa, twelve is striking loud enough. You need not produce your watch at the same time.” “Then why have I to wait?” he said. There was something awful in his tone. But Domenico was equal to the occasion, worthy at once of the lover’s and of the father’s trust. At that moment, Captain Gaunt having been got away while the great bell of Bordighera was still sounding, the faithful Domenico threw open, perhaps with a little more sound than was necessary, an ostentation of readiness, the dining-room door.