her little daughter, and then their airs of gentle patronage was delightful. They were very kind, always ready to be of use. “What were our blessings given to us for, but to be shared with others?” Mrs. Norton would say; “I am sure dear Diana is of that opinion.” And no doubt there crept by degrees a certain confusion into her mind on the subject, and she ceased to be quite sure that dear Diana’s opinion on this subject was more important than her own. All this Mrs. Hunstanton beheld with hostile eyes. She had no patience with Diana’s supineness. “You demoralise everybody,” she cried at last, wound up to desperation. “They were good enough little silly creatures, but now they are unendurable.” Was there perhaps a consciousness in her mind, behind this warmth of righteous indignation, that the additional importance which the two little ladies had taken upon them, and the carriage and Diana’s backing, had made a difference in their attentions to Reginald? If so, Mrs. Hunstanton would no doubt have felt that she was quite right in finding fault with such selfishness, for had not they paid court to herself assiduously until such time as they needed her no longer? Mercenary little things, both aunt and niece! No one, however, could shake Diana out of this supineness, or could drive her into a fiery round of sight-seeing such as her friends desired. She went out and walked, roaming about the sacred places, making slow acquaintance with the things she wanted to see, spending the cool hours under the shadow of the Vandyke in these great cool melancholy rooms, sitting out in the balcony, where a faint waft of orange-blossom out of the nearest convent garden came upon the soft evening air. Fortunately there was a moon, which, so long as it lasted, whitening the _loggias_ and high roofs of the tall houses on the other side of Arno, and casting a long silvery gleam along the course of the river between, pleased her more than anything. They said she was lazy, and they said she was sad; but Diana was no more sad than a nature finely touched is apt to be by moments everywhere, and she had more occupation every day than good Mr. Hunstanton, who was the chief supporter of the lazy theory, got through in a week. It was only her friends, however, as so often happens, who found fault with her. The general community looked with profoundest admiration upon this beautiful young woman (“though not so very young,” some people said), who was so rich, and in her own country such a great lady. Again, Diana had the advantage over a young Squire Trelawny of her own age and wealth. Much as that personage would naturally have been prized in an English colony, she was looked up to still more. She was so rich; she had so much power to give pleasure to others, and such goodwill to do it. And then to pay court to her injured no one’s _amour propre_, neither that of man or woman. To want to marry her even, had it gone so far as that, would have been no shame to any one.