“Now, Sophy, my pet,” she said, “I congratulate you with all my heart--but you see now you have got to deal with a gentleman, not with a poor old auntie that does everything you wish whether it is convenient or not: with a gentleman, my love--one who has business that cannot be trifled with, you know. And you must just make up your mind to have him when you can, not whenever you like. For, my love, you have entered on a new phase of life, and this is what you must make up your mind to, now.” There was something in the grandeur of this address, and the strange thrill with which she felt the reality of the new position, which silenced Sophy. She stopped in the middle of her pout. It might not be so satisfactory, but it was more imposing than anything she had dreamed of. A lover who only kissed your hand, that was not according to Sophy’s preconceived idea of lovers--but it was very imposing. And then, of course, he was an Italian, and this must be the dignified Italian way! CHAPTER XV. THE SPOSA. There was a certain solemnity about the party in Diana’s rooms that evening. Sophy and Mrs. Norton came downstairs in their best dresses, with an air of importance not to be mistaken; and was it not quite natural that they should look important? No human circumstances can possibly be more interesting than those of the bridegroom and bride who have chosen each other from the world, and who present themselves to the world smiling, hand in hand, the ever-renewed type of human progression: primitive beginning, over again, of a new world. The completeness of the position was spoiled by the fact that the _fiancé_ was not present; but that was not the fault of the little ladies, who knew nothing about his reasons for being absent,--or rather supposed that they did know all about them, and had the privilege of representing their new piece of property, and explaining for him. “I am so sorry Mr. Pandolfini will not be able to be here,” said Mrs. Norton. “He would have liked it of all things, I need not say; but he had business to attend to. It is easy to understand how he should have business, looking forward, as he is, to a change in his condition--to such a change! and he felt sure that you would excuse him, Diana.” “Surely,” said Diana; “there is nothing to excuse.” She was looking grave, more thoughtful than usual--or so at least two or three people in the room thought, who were thunderstruck by the unexpected news of Pandolfini’s engagement. Mrs. Hunstanton, who watched her very closely, and who was in a state of suppressed excitement, which she scarcely could manage to conceal, thought that her friend was pale. But that was probably her own imagination, which was very lively, and at the present moment extremely busy, inventing motives and sentiments all round.