The child sighed submissively and took the coffee that Giovanni brought to her. She and Imogene went into the _salotto_ together. Mrs. Bowen was at her writing-desk. "You can bring the coffee here, Effie," she said. "Must I go to bed at once, mamma?" asked the child, setting the cup carefully down. The mother looked distractedly up from her writing. "No; you may sit up a while," she said, looking back to her writing. "How long, mamma?" pleaded the little girl. "Oh, till you're sleepy. It doesn't matter _now_." She went on writing; from time to time she tore up what she had written. Effie softly took a book from the table, and perching herself on a stiff, high chair, bent over it and began to read. Imogene sat by the hearth, where a small fire was pleasant in the indoor chill of an Italian house, even after so warm a day as that had been. She took some large beads of the strand she wore about her neck into her mouth, and pulled at the strand listlessly with her hand while she watched the fire. Her eyes wandered once to the child. "What made you take such an uncomfortable chair, Effie?" Effie shut her book over her hand. "It keeps me wakeful longer," she whispered, with a glance at her mother from the corner of her eye. "I don't see why any one should wish to be wakeful," sighed the girl. When Mrs. Bowen tore up one of her half-written pages Imogene started nervously forward, and then relapsed again into her chair. At last Mrs. Bowen seemed to find the right phrases throughout, and she finished rather a long letter, and read it over to herself. Then she said, without leaving her desk, "Imogene, I've been trying to write to your mother. Will you look at this?" She held the sheet over her shoulder, and Imogene came languidly and took it; Mrs. Bowen dropped her face forward on the desk, into her hands, while Imogene was reading. "FLORENCE, _March_ 10, 18-- "Dear Mrs. Graham,--I have some very important news to give you in regard to Imogene, and as there is no way of preparing you for it, I will tell you at once that it relates to her marriage. "She has met at my house a gentleman whom I knew in Florence when I was here before, and of whom I never knew anything but good. We have seen him very often, and I have seen nothing in him that I could not approve. He is Mr. Theodore Colville, of Prairie des Vaches, Indiana, where he was for many years a newspaper editor; but he was born somewhere in New England. He is a very cultivated, interesting man; and though not exactly a society man, he is very agreeable and refined in his manners. I am sure his character is irreproachable, though he is not a member of any church. In regard to his means I know nothing whatever, and can only infer from his way of life that he is in easy circumstances.