At Salerno they caught a train which enabled them to reach Naples late in the evening. Mallard accompanied his friends to their hotel, and dined with them. As he and Spence were smoking together afterwards, the latter communicated some news which he had reserved for privacy. "By-the-bye, we hear that Cecily and her aunt are at Florence, and are coming to Rome next week." "Elgar with them?" Mallard asked, with nothing more than friendly interest. "No. They say he is so hard at work that he couldn't leave London." "What work?" "The same I told you of last year." Mallard regarded him with curious inquiry. "His wife travels for her health?" "She seems to be all right again, but Mrs. Lessingham judged that a change was necessary. Won't you use the opportunity of meeting her?" "As it comes naturally, there's no reason why I shouldn't. In fact, I shall be glad to see her. But I should have preferred to meet them both together. What faith do you put in this same work of Elgar's?" "That he _is_ working, I take it there can be no doubt, and I await the results with no little curiosity. Mrs. Lessingham writes vaguely, which, by-the-bye, is not her habit. Whether she is a believer or not, we can't determine." "Did the child's death affect him much?" "I know nothing about it." They smoked in silence for a few minutes. Then Mallard observed, without taking the cigar from his lips: "How much better Mrs. Baske looks!" "Naturally the change is more noticeable to you than to us. It has come very slowly. I dare say you see other changes as well?" Spence's eye twinkled as he spoke. "I was prepared for them. That she should stay abroad with you all this time is in itself significant. Where does she propose to live when you are back in England?" "Why, there hasn't been a word said on the subject. Eleanor is waiting; doesn't like to ask questions. We shall have our house in Chelsea again, and she is very welcome to share it with us if she likes. I think it is certain she won't go back to Lancashire; and the notion of her living with the Elgars is improbable." "How far does the change go?" inquired Mallard, with hesitancy. "I can't tell you, for we are neither of us in her confidence. But she is no longer a precisian. She has read a great deal; most of it reading of a very substantial kind. Not at all connected with religion; it would be a mistake to suppose that she has been going in for a course of modern criticism, and that kind of thing. The Greek and Latin authors she knows very fairly, in English or French translations. What would our friend Bradshaw say? She has grappled with whole libraries of solid historians. She knows the Italian poets Really, no common case of a woman educating herself at that age." "Would you mind telling me what her age is?"