She was more than half in earnest, wanting to hear about Harry, and yet it was half a pretence; she could not help but be conscious of the figure at her elbow stalking along in silent disgust, ready to abandon her for ever, and all the plans connected with her; ready to seize the little Italian by his coatcollar and whirl him away into the sea or air, yet jealous of losing a word of what was said. Lionel walked along the street like an embodied thunder-cloud, and they were already at the door of the Leone, which thank heaven, he thought, would at least put an end to this. It did not do so, however, for Lydia in her perversity insisted upon carrying Paolo with her to Lady Brotherton, interrupting him in the midst of the narrative she had asked for, but which in her gradually increasing excitement about her other companion she could not listen to. She broke into it just as Paolo, with the water in his eyes, was recounting how he had thrown himself on Harry’s bosom and sworn eternal friendship. “Siamo amici, I said to him,” said Paolo. “What is mine is thine. I will be your caution; I will respond for you; I will present you----” “Come upstairs, Mr. Paul,” said Lydia, restless, “Lady Brotherton will be glad to have you to help us.” He stopped short, thus interrupted in the midst of his narrative, and it hurt poor Paolo. But next moment he smiled with his usual sweet temper, and followed her. Lionel could not help feeling that in the same circumstances he could have almost killed her--which, indeed, was the state of his mind now. And then there followed such an afternoon of trouble and excitement as drove Lionel nearly out of his senses. Lady Brotherton had to be told the strange story, and then Sir John, who could not understand it at all; and afterwards, in the midst of all the preparations for the start, “all Leghorn,” the indignant young man said to himself, poured down upon them. All Leghorn meant Harry and his family, and Mr. Bonamy, who came one after another in different degrees of excitement. Rita arrived first with her two youngest children and their nurse, to show to her new sister-in-law, and to make amends for her previous want of graciousness. “I could not understand it--how could I understand it?” she said, and she was magnanimous enough to point out the resemblance of the bambino to his aunt. Then came Harry to say that he had made hasty preparations to go home with his sister, and would join them that evening at the steamboat. And finally the Vice-Consul’s exertions brought some sort of enlightenment to Sir John, whose first idea was that Mr. Bonamy’s son-in-law wanted to marry little Liddy, though he had already a wife of his own. All these perpetual visitors kept the party in a whirl of commotion, and Lionel, at last driven to the end of his patience, sallied forth and walked about till the moment of departure came, all but cursing Harry, and vowing to himself that he would take no further