Mallard took the first opportunity of looking with scrutiny at Mrs. Baske. Alone of the three, she was changed noticeably. Her health had so much improved that, if anything, she looked younger; certainly her face had more distinct beauty. Reserve and conscious dignity were still its characteristics--these were inseparable from the mould of feature; but her eyes no longer had the somewhat sullen gleam which had been wont to harm her aspect, and when she smiled it was without the hint of disdainful reticence. Yet the smile was not frequent; her lips had an habitual melancholy, and very often she knitted her brows in an expression of troubled thought. Whilst the others were talking with Mallard, she kept slightly in the rear, and seemed to be occupied in examining the different parts of the temple. In attire she was transformed. No suggestion now of the lady from provincial England. She was very well, because most fittingly, dressed; neither too youthfully, nor with undue disregard of the fact that she was still young; a travelling-costume apt to the season and the country. "They speak much of Signor Mal-lard at the osteria," said Spence. "Your departure afflicts them, naturally, no doubt. Do you know whether any other Englishman ever braved that accommodation?" A country lad appeared, carrying a small hamper, wherein the party had brought their midday meal from Salerno. "Why did you trouble?" said Mallard. "We have cheese and salame in abundance." "So I supposed," Spence replied, drily. "I recall the quality of both. Also the _vino di Calabria_, which is villanously sweet. Show us what point of view you chose." For an hour they walked and talked. Miriam alone was almost silent, but she paid constant attention to the ruins. Mallard heard her say something to Eleanor about the difference between the columns of the middle temple and those of the so-called Basilica; three years ago, such a remark would have been impossible on her lips, and when he glanced at her with curiosity, she seemed conscious of his look. They at length opened the hamper, and seated themselves near the spot where Mallard had been reclining. "There's a smack of profanity in this," said Spence. "The least we can do is to pour a libation to Poseidon, before we begin the meal." And he did so, filling a tumbler with wine arid solemnly emptying half of it on to the floor of the _cella_. Mallard watched the effect on Mrs. Baske; she met his look for an instant and smiled, then relapsed into thoughtfulness.