Thus the arrangements went on strangely enough, Sophy being the only one of all concerned who did not, as time progressed, feel in them a certain strangeness and mysterious something behind. The rector and his nephew came back before the time fixed for the wedding, though it was growing hot, and Mr. Snodgrass was anxious to get home. The curate was generally the one who yielded, not the one who led, but he had steadily held to his determination to come back to Pisa, and succeeded, as was natural. The rector was one of those who had guessed Diana to intend the Italian for herself, being of the opinion that the aim of every woman, however elevated, was to “catch” a man, one way or other; and he was not without hope now that his dear Bill’s constant devotion might at last get its reward. Many a heart is caught in the rebound, and if Bill was not very good-looking, he was at least a cleanly Englishman, not one of “those Italians.” To be on the spot might be all-important for him; so his uncle yielded and came back to Pisa, though it was hot, and even volunteered his services to perform the marriage--the Protestant marriage, as it was called with contempt by the old Canonico, Pandolfini’s cousin, who was to perform the other ceremony. It was a bitter pill for the rector to hear himself called a Protestant, but there was no help for it. The Canonico only took snuff, and smiled, when the English priest called himself a Catholic. Rome repays to the highest Anglican, and with interest, the spurns which he is so fond of administering to patient merit, when it takes the form of Dissent. The Canonico had asked if Sophy was a Protestant or a Christian, when he first heard of the marriage, and treated with absolute cynicism all Mr. Snodgrass’s protestations. But, on the other hand, Mrs. Norton could not be happy without the blessing of her own Church; nor did she think it suitable that the niece of her late dear husband, who was for so many years a most respectable clergyman of the Church of England, should be married without it. How could she tell what the priest said in his Latin? but about the English service there could be no manner of doubt. So the rector swallowed the opprobrious epithet of Protestant, and declared himself ready to perform the rite. Diana would no doubt be there. She would be compelled to veil her feelings, and to witness the marriage: and, in the rebound, who could tell what dear Bill’s presence might do?