We were blocking up the crowded promenade, and so we all three turned and walked leisurely along amongst the others. In a few minutes I had heard that Lord Parkhurst had brought his daughter and some other friends here from Rome in his yacht, and they were uncertain as to their stay. And in return I had told them that I was living with my father for a while close to Palermo. Presently we came up with the remainder of their party, and Lord Parkhurst, leaving his daughter in my charge, joined them. A tall, good-humoured-looking boy strolled up to us, looking at me questioningly. Lady Olive introduced me to her brother, who came over to my side, and seemed disposed to stay with us. "Now, we're not going to have you, Frank," Lady Olive declared, laughing. "Mr. Arbuthnot and I are old friends, and we have a lot to talk about. Go and take care of Cissy, do!" He laughed good-humouredly, and then, nodding to me, strolled off with his hands in his pockets. Lady Olive rested her little hand upon my arm for a moment, and guided me down towards the winter garden, where the throng was less dense. There we found a low seat, and sat down with our faces to the sea, and our backs to the ever-increasing crowd, the murmur of whose conversation reached us in an incessant subdued hum. "And now, Mr. Arbuthnot, tell me all the news, please; I want to know everything about yourself," exclaimed Lady Olive, making herself comfortable. "Quick, please; we haven't more than half-an-hour before some one will be looking for me." "Half-a-minute will suffice to tell you my news," I answered, and I told her the little that had happened to me since Marian's marriage. Told her of my meeting with my father, and of our quiet life together. She listened with more than interest; and very enchanting she looked in the golden light which shone upon her up-turned, piquant face, and in her dark, tender eyes, which had almost filled with compassionate tears when I had finished. For, after all, there was something sad about my story. "I think it is so good of you, Mr.--Mr. Arbuthnot, to give up your life, as you are doing, to your father," she said softly. I laughed at the idea. "Give it up! It is no sacrifice. I like being with him; and life isn't at all unpleasant out here, I can tell you." "Isn't it a little dull?" she asked, hesitatingly. "I had not found it so," I told her. "Perhaps I should when she were gone," I added. She made a mocking face at me, and then suddenly became grave again. "Mr. Arbuthnot, I wonder whether you will mind," she said, looking at me very earnestly, "but papa knows your real name and all about you. I couldn't help telling him, because I have thought about you so much. You are not angry?" I smiled down at her reassuringly. Angry! Why should I be? Instead, I must confess that I felt a decided glow of pleasure at her eager words. "Tell me something about yourself now," I begged, "and some English news, if there is any."