--Look, now, at this beautiful morning--the wide bay all of silver and azure--Vesuvius sending its column of dusky smoke into the cloudless sky--the little steamer churning up the clear as it starts away from the quay. Ah, we have escaped from you, good Maestro Pandiani? there shall be no grumblings and incessant repetitions to-day? no, nor odors of onions coming up the narrow and dirty stairs: here is the open world, all shining, and the sweet air blowing by, and Battista trying to sell his useless canes, and the minstrels playing "Santa Lucia" most sentimentally, as though they had never played it before. Whither, then, Nina? To Castellamare or Sorrento, with their pink and yellow houses, their terraces and gardens, their vine-smothered bowers, or rather to the filmy island out yonder, that seems to move and tremble in the heat? A couple of words in their own tongue suffice to silence the importunate coral-girls; we climb the never-ending steps; behold, a cool and gracious balcony, with windows looking far out over the quivering plain of the sea. Then the soup, and the boiled corn, and the _caccia-cavallo_--you Neapolitan girl!--and nothing will serve you but that orris-scented stuff that you fondly believe to be honest wine. You will permit a cigarette? Then shall we descend to the beach again, and get into a boat, and lie down, and find ourselves shot into the Blue Grotto--find ourselves floating between heaven and earth in a hollow-sounding globe of azure flame?... Dreams--dreams! "_Io te voglio bene assaje, e tu non pienz' a me!_" During the first period of Miss Burgoyne's engagement to Lionel Moore, all went well. Jane, her dresser, had quite a wonderful time of it; her assiduous and arduous ministrations were received with the greatest good-nature; now she was never told, if she hurt her mistress in lacing up a dress, that she deserved to have her face slapped. Miss Burgoyne was amiability itself towards the whole company, so far as she had any relations with them: and at her little receptions in the evening she was all brightness and merriment, even when she had to join in the conversation from behind the heavy _portiere_. Whether this small coterie in the theatre guessed at the true state of affairs, it is hard to say; but at least Miss Burgoyne did not trouble herself much about concealment. She called her affianced lover "Lionel," no matter who chanced to be present; and she would ask him to help her to hand the tea, just as if he already belonged to her. Moreover, she told him that Mr. Percival Miles had some suspicion of what had happened. "Not that I would admit anything definite," said the young lady. "There will be time enough for that. And I did not want a scene. But I'm sorry. It does seem a pity that so much devotion should meet with no requital." "Devotion!" said Lionel.