liberality startled him in the habits of his poverty, for he was economical and careful as his race, not knowing what it was to be rich, and unfamiliar with the art of using money. Few of his delights had ever come in that way. He had been kind to his friends and to his inferiors in a different fashion, in the way of personal service, of tender sympathy, and the help one mind and heart can give to another; but it had never been in his power to lavish around him things which cost actual money as Diana did, and he was puzzled by her habits in this respect, and not quite sure, perhaps, that this was not a slight coming down from her high ideal position. But the fault, if fault it was, tended at least towards nobleness, for Diana’s personal tastes were simple enough, notwithstanding a certain inclination towards magnificence, which did not displease him. He watched her as narrowly as a jealous husband, though in a very different sense, to make quite sure that she was everything he believed her to be. But Pandolfini was subtle as his race, notwithstanding that he was an Anglomane, and declared his enthusiasm for all the English virtues of openness, candour, and calm. He did not show his devotion as a blundering Englishman would have done. No one suspected him of his worship of Diana--no one--except two very acute observers, who made no communication to each other, but on the contrary avoided the subject--to wit, Diana herself and Mrs. Hunstanton. As for Diana, she was unconscious as long as possible, and denied it stoutly to herself as long as possible; yet nevertheless had the fact conveyed to her in the very air, by minute and all but invisible indications which she would not admit but could not gainsay. And her friend divined, being his friend also, and a silent observer, the very reverse of her kind busybody of a husband, to whom the idea that Pandolfini had any special admiration for Diana would have been simple food for laughter, neither less nor more. Thus the course of events went on. When “these two” had a little talk together, Mr. Hunstanton would chuckle and rub his hands with pleasure. “Yes, I think they are getting on a little better,” he said. “Why they should not have taken to each other, is a thing I cannot comprehend. With so many things in common! But you see the Italian does not understand the Englishwoman, nor the Englishwoman the Italian. She is too independent for him; and he is too--too----too everything for her. The more they see of each other, the more they will respect each other; but there will never be any real understanding between them. A pity, isn’t it?--for there are not two better people in the world.”