It was a shock so unexpected that Mrs. Churchill drew her breath under it audibly, as one does under an actual blow. But instantly she rallied. She said to herself that she had got a romantic idealist for a daughter--that was all. She had not suspected it; she had thought of Eva as a lovely child who would develop into what she herself had been. Fanny, though far-seeing and intelligent, had not been endowed with imagination. But now that she did realize it, she should know how to deal with it. A disposition like that, full of visionary fancies, was not so uncommon as some people supposed. Horace Bartholomew should take the Floridian away out of Eva's sight forever, and the girl would soon forget him; in the meanwhile not one word that was harsh should be spoken on the subject, for that would be the worst policy of all. This train of thought had passed through her mind like a flash. "My dear," she began, as soon as she had got her breath back, "you are right to be so honest with me. Mr. Rod has not--has not said anything to you on the subject, has he?" "No. Didn't I tell you that he cares nothing for me? I think he despises me--I am so useless!" And then suddenly the girl began to sob; a passion of tears. Fanny was at her wits' end; Eva had not wept since the day of her baby ills, for life had been happy to her, loved, caressed, and protected as she had been always, like a hot-house flower. "My darling," said the mother, taking her in her arms. But Eva wept on and on, as if her heart would break. It ended in Fanny's crying too. V Early the next morning her letter to Bartholomew was sent. Bartholomew had gone to Munich for a week. The letter begged, commanded, that he should make some pretext that would call David Rod from Sorrento at the earliest possible moment. She counted upon her fingers; four days for the letter to go and the answer to return. Those four days she would spend at Capri. Eva went with her quietly. There had been no more conversation between mother and daughter about Rod; Fanny thought that this was best. On the fourth day there came a letter from Bartholomew. Fanny returned to Sorrento almost gayly: the man would be gone. But he was not gone. Tranquillized, glad to be at home again, Mrs. Churchill was enjoying her terrace and her view, when Angelo appeared at the window: "Signor Ra." Angelo's mistress made him a peremptory sign. "Ask the gentleman to wait in the drawing-room," she said. Then crossing to Eva, who had risen, "Go round by the other door to our own room, Eva," she whispered. The girl did not move; her face had an excited look. "But why--" "Go, child; go." Still Eva stood there, her eyes fixed upon the long window veiled in lace; she scarcely seemed to breathe. Her mother was driven to stronger measures. "You told me yourself that he cared nothing for you." A deep red rose in Eva's cheeks; she turned and left the terrace by the distant door.