"It is as warm as midsummer. And the air is perfectly dry, I think; no dew," Mackenzie answered. "He defends her even when she vexes him," commented Charlotte Tracy, after he had gone. "He might as well be amiable, seeing that he cannot be interesting," Mrs. North responded. Dorothy was not at San Vito's. And she had not gone down the zigzags of the carriage-road; he went down to see. He returned to Belmonte. It was now late twilight. But there was still a band of orange light in the west, and, outlined against it, on the top of the tower, were two figures. He recognized them instantly--Dorothy and young Brunetti. Dorothy waved her hand to him through one of the embrasures. "Send up some one with candles," she called. "With what?" "Can-dles; it's too dark now to come down without lights. But don't send immediately; wait fifteen minutes more, so that we can see the moon rise. And, Alan!" "Yes?" "Please tell them that Mr. Brunetti will stay and dine with us." IV On the 29th of December of this same year, 1882, Reginald Illingsworth was paying a visit to Mrs. Sebright. "What a career that little girl will have!" he said, with deep gustatory appreciation. Before this, for half an hour, he had been making remarks of a nature best described by the following examples: "That excellent fellow, Mackenzie! You can't think how I miss him!" "There is something so tragic in such a death--a man who had everything to live for!" "How could they go to Rome! That pernicious Roman fever is the curse of Italy." "Those poor ladies! Directly I heard they had returned to Belmonte, I went up at once to inquire and to leave cards; it is a stricken house!" Having said everything that decorum required, he now finally allowed himself to bring out the thought which was in reality filling his mind: "What a career that little girl will have! Only nineteen, and so very pretty, so charming. He has left her everything without a condition (save in the event--most improbable at her age--of her dying without children, in which case it goes back to his own relatives), and I am told that he had nearly eight millions of dollars; that is, one million six hundred thousand pounds! They are shrewd in their American way--those ladies; Mrs. North is very shrewd. And mark my words, madam, that little girl will make one of the great matches yet; not pinchbeck; something really good!" (His "good" had a deeply solid sound.) This same afternoon the following words were exchanged in another quarter of Florence: "Rose, dear," said Miss Jane Wood, "you will go up again to-morrow, won't you, to see poor Dorothy?" "I have been twice--all that is necessary for appearances, Aunt Jane. Why should I bother Dorothy now?" "Sympathy--" began Miss Jane.