They were just rising from the table, and, in speaking, the daughter put her arm around her father’s shoulder and kissed him, as if she would assure him of her loving respect in all that was human, even while reproving him from the height of a superior spiritual wisdom. The father had been wont to receive these soft admonitions affectionately, indeed, but somewhat lightly. Lately, however, he had taken them in a more serious manner. Perhaps the presence of the Signora, whose sentiments in such matters he could not regard as childish, and whose displeasure he could not look upon with the natural superiority of a father, put him a little more on his guard. He glanced at her now, biting his lip; but she did not seem to have heard. “May not the effect bell-ringing has on tempests be accounted for on natural principles?” Isabel asked, with the air of one making a philosophical discovery. “My dear Isabel, it is said that the miracles of Christ may be so accounted for,” the Signora replied. “But who is to account for the natural principles? We have no time to spare,” she added brightly. “The train starts in fifteen minutes. Hurry, children!” But, brightly as she spoke, a slight cloud settled over her feelings after this little incident. She was not displeased with Mr. Vane; for she had learned that no real irreverence underlay these occasional gibes, and had observed that they grew more rare, and were rather the effect of habit than of intention. She was grateful to him, indeed, for the delicacy and consideration he showed, and for the patience with which he submitted himself to a Catholic atmosphere and mode of life which did not touch his convictions, though it might not have been foreign to his tastes.