“You see meaning in everything,” he said, “more than there is, more than there can be, Lydia. All that about his child’s name is just your own delicate feeling--though after all, when one comes to think of it, Ralph! it is an odd name for a little Italian boy.” “And the girl is Giovanna; you said yourself it was the same name as Joan.” “Did I? I am sure I did not mean anything,” said Lionel, with a short laugh, and then he cried, “By Jove!” again. “I really do think there is something in it. He gave a look, I remember now, as if he did understand, as if he thought I meant something. It looks very odd, Lydia; and I had a strong impression he was like some one that I had seen him before.” “He is like--all of us,” said Lydia, with a little breathless gasp, “not one nor another, but all. But tell me, tell me what to do! We have only to-day, a few hours, nothing more!” “As for that,” said Lionel, “of course, if this turns out so important, my mother must simply arrange to stay till we see the end of it. She will not mind, she will like to jump into the middle of a romance; and my father will easily be persuaded to stay, there will be no difficulty about that.” And then there was a long debate and consultation between them; a debate--for Lionel, not understanding that even when a human creature is a woman she likes to do her work with her own hands, was for proceeding to the Vice-Consul himself, and going through all the pros and cons, and bringing the result to her, to save her fatigue, and to keep her from all disagreeable contact with the world; whereas Lydia’s most prevailing desire was to follow out the clue at which she had caught, and to track her prey into his last refuge, and to unveil the impostor. She did not use these words, but this was the course upon which she was intent. She was not afraid of contact with the world, or of what anybody might say. The discussion rose somewhat hotly between them as the servants came and went, laying the table, bringing in the English urn and teapot, which all the Inglesi preferred. They were still sitting close together, talking warmly, interrupting each other, Lydia’s face glowing with the excitement of the situation, when Lady Brotherton appeared. She was startled by the sight, but for the moment she did not ask any questions, being much pre-occupied by Sir John’s breakfast, that the tea should be strong enough without being too strong, that the cream should not be “turned,” and that the fish should be done to his mind. She did not take much notice of them, and the meeting between them broke up, each retiring upon his and her own side of the question. Lydia was too much excited to talk, or to think, of ordinary things. She sat at the table as upon thorns, and the moment the meal was over, got up with some excuse and hastened away. Lionel followed her a few minutes after. He lingered in the hall, hoping he might be in time, at least, to go with her, wherever she might choose to go.