When Ibbetson reached Villa Carlina that morning, only Mrs Masters, in her usual condition of good-natured drowsiness, was in the breakfast-room, eating grapes from a great golden bunch which had just been brought in with stalk and leaves attached; but before he had had much time to ponder where he should find the others, Bice came, flushed and smiling, and carrying a great bunch of flowers, jack felt himself again wondering at her beauty. She had a white dress--indeed, as yet, he had seen her in no other colour--but over her head she had flung a veil of black lace, Milanese fashion, and the bright flowers in her hands--big scarlet lilies, blue larkspurs, and another blue flower with green spikes--made a brilliant flash of colour against the cool white folds. Mrs Masters said plaintively-- "Where can you have been, Bice? They have been looking for you everywhere until Oliver is quite vexed; go and find them in the garden, and say that you are come." "There is no hurry," said the girl lightly; "they do not want me." "But where have you been?" "To gather flowers for the Virgin's niche; and they are so scarce at this time of the year, that I had to go a long way." "So it is you who keep the flowers supplied?" said Ibbetson, remembering that on the day he first saw the villa he had wondered whose hand had placed the pretty nosegay. "Yes. But we are English, and belong to the English Church," said Beatrice quickly. "You will see us in Florence to-morrow. Only it seemed so sad to leave that little shrine in the wall desolate after flowers had been laid there for so many years; and the poor peasants who come along that dusty road like to see something fresh and pretty when they look up and pray; and so I am going there now," she said smiling; "and you may come if you will, just to see how they get into the grating." "But there is Oliver," said Mrs Masters anxiously. "He has Kitty," Bice answered. "Or, if that does not content you, they are in the garden, for I heard their voices, and it is there we are going." Nevertheless Ibbetson fancied that she led him along paths which looked mossy and unfrequented. There was a gloom about these paths even on this bright day; dark ilexes shut out the sun overhead, long leaves of narcissus straggled about, weedy-looking and untidy, amid the undergrowth; one or two mutilated statues kept desolate ward over the silence and dimness. The girl glanced round her and shivered. "I wish I had not brought you here," she said uneasily; "there is something in this walk which always oppresses me." "If I had not seen it you would not have made me believe there was so cheerless a spot so near the villa. But then, if you had not told me the contrary, I could not have thought there was any dark shadow near you in your happy country life." Foolish, kind Jack! Ever since he had seen the tears in her eyes he had felt that he should like to help her. Bice stopped and looked earnestly at him.