Captain Gaunt called next day to bring, he said, a message from his mother. She sent Mr Waring a newspaper which she thought he might like to see, an English weekly newspaper, which some of her correspondents had sent her, in which there was an article---- He did not give a very clear account of this, nor make it distinctly apparent why Waring should be specially interested; and as a matter of fact, the newspaper found its way to the waste-paper basket, and interested nobody. But, no doubt, Mrs Gaunt’s intentions had been excellent. When the young soldier arrived, there was a carriage at the door, and Constance had her hat on. “We are going,” she said, “to San Remo, to see about a piano. Do you know San Remo? Oh, I forgot you are as much a stranger as I am; you don’t know anything. What a good thing that there are two ignorant persons! We will keep each other in countenance, and they will be compelled to make all kinds of expeditions to show us everything.” “That will be a wonderful chance for me,” said the young man, “for nobody would take so much trouble for me alone.” “How can you tell that? Miss Tasie, I should think, would be an excellent cicerone,” said Constance. She said it with a light laugh of suggestion, meaning to imply, though, of course, she had _said_ nothing, that Tasie would be too happy to put herself at Captain Gaunt’s disposition; a suggestion which he, too, received with a laugh--for this is one of the points upon which both boys and girls are always ungenerous. “And failing Miss Tasie,” said Constance, “suppose you come with papa and me? They say it is a pretty drive. They say, of course, that everything here is lovely, and that the Riviera is paradise. Do you find it so?” “I can fancy circumstances in which I should find it so,” said the young soldier. “Ah, yes; every one can do that. I can fancy circumstances in which Bond Street would be paradise--oh, very easily! It is not far from paradise at any time.” “That is a heaven of which I know very little, Miss Waring.” “Ah, then, you must learn. The true Elysian fields are in London in May. If you don’t know that, you can form no idea of happiness. An exile from all delights gives you the information, and you may be sure it is true.” “Why, then, Miss Waring, if you think so----” “Am I here? Oh, that is easily explained. I have a sister.” “Yes, I know.” “Ah, I understand you have heard a great deal about my sister. I suffer here from being compared with her. I am not nearly so good, so wise, as Frances. But is that my fault, Captain Gaunt? You are impartial; you are a new-comer. If I could, I would, be as nice as Frances, don’t you believe?” The young man gave Constance a look, which, indeed, she expected, and said with confusion, “I don’t see--any need for improvement,” and blushed as near crimson as was possible over the greenish brown of his Indian colour.