“Yes: he was surprised to find me here waiting for you--as I was surprised to see him,” said Diana, with an unconscious sense of apology. “He did not--stay--I came to ask you to look at--some patterns,” her voice failed her. She could not add the trivial message which in reality, with that indulgence which Mrs. Hunstanton never could understand, was the reason of her visit: for Sophy’s _trousseau_, which was causing her so much delightful occupation, was for the most part Diana’s gift. “Patterns!” they both said in a breath, in tones of interest which drove away all recollection of Mr. Pandolfini’s visit which they had lost. “You shall see them, if you will come to me downstairs,” said Diana, glad of this easy means of getting away. And they spent an hour or two delighted and yet anxious in the perplexities of choice, and never noticed either of them any traces of tears that might be lingering about Diana’s eyes. CHAPTER XVI. A SYMPATHISING FRIEND. The spring days lengthened into summer while the preliminaries of the marriage still went on. The Hunstantons could not retard their usual day of departure for any event of such secondary importance as the marriage of Sophy Norton. “To be sure, poor Pandolfini is our friend, and for him one might be tempted to stay,” Mrs. Hunstanton said; “but the Nortons--the Nortons are only _protégées_ of Diana’s. But for her I should never have noticed them. It is her whim to spoil these two silly little women. But though I am so fond of Diana, I have never humoured her in this; and for us to remain would be absurd.” So, though they lingered a week or so, that was all. The Snodgrasses, uncle and nephew, had gone on to Florence and to Rome. The other members of the little party were dispersing on all sides. Only Diana remained to keep the bride-elect and her anxious but triumphant aunt company. And Diana had hesitated. She had wished to go with the Hunstantons straight home, but for the complaints and outcries of the two little ladies. “Oh, will you go and forsake us?” Sophy cried. “Will you leave me to be married without one friend near me?” “Indeed, Diana, I did not expect you would leave us,” said Mrs. Norton. “I should not have undertaken it if I had not felt sure of you. And how can I go through it all without some support?--without some one to lean upon?” Diana, though she smiled at these arguments, remained. There were, indeed, a great many things in which she was a support to the fluttering and nervous pair, who were half overjoyed by the approaching elevation, half frightened by the loneliness of their position. Mrs. Norton especially was apt to be invaded by doubts. Whether she ought not to have insisted that her niece should be married at home: whether it was not too much of Mr. Pandolfini to have asked of her (though so flattering to dear Sophy and lover-like was his impatience to make her his own): whether people might not think