“There, see, my friend has lost all patience; come up to the road, Tony. She must see that my interview has been with an English gentleman, and not a brigand chief. Give me your arm, and do not look so sulky.” “You women can look any way you will,” mumbled he, “no matter what you may feel; that is, if you _do_ feel.” “You are the same old savage, Tony, as ever,” said she, laughing. “I never got my melon, after all, Miss Lester; the sight of an old friend was, however, better. Let me present him to you,--Mr. Butler.” “Mr. Tony Butler?” asked she, with a peculiar smile; and though she spoke it low, he heard her, and said, “Yes; I am Tony Butler.” “Sir Arthur will be charmed to know you are here. It was but yesterday he said he 'd not mind taking a run through Calabria if we only had you with us.” “I have said all that and more to him, but he does n't mind it,” said Alice. “Is this fair, Alice?” whispered he. “In fact,” resumed she, “he has nowhere particular to go to, provided it be not the same road that we are taking.” “Is this kind, Alice?” whispered he, again. “And though I have told him what pleasure it would give us all if he would turn back with us--” “You 'll drive me to say it,” muttered he, between his teeth. “If you dare, sir,” said she, in a low but clear whisper; and now she stepped into the carriage, and affected to busy herself with her mufflers. Tony assisted Miss Lester to her place, and then walked round to the side where Alice sat. “You are not angry with me, Alice?” said he, falteringly. “I certainly am not pleased,” said she, coldly. “There was a time I had not to press a wish,--I had but to utter it.” “And yet, Alice,” said he, leaning over, and whispering so close that she felt his breath on her face,--“and yet I never loved you then as I love you now.” “You have determined that I should not repeat my invitation,” said she, leaning back in the carriage; “I must--I have no help for it--I must say good-bye!” “Good-bye,” said he, pressing her hand, from which he had just drawn off the glove, to his lips. She never made any effort to withdraw it, but leaned forward as though to conceal the action from her companion. “Good-bye, dearest Alice,” said he, once more. “Give me my glove, Tony. I think it has fallen,” said she, carelessly, as she leaned back once more. “There it is,” muttered he; “but I have another here that I will never part with;” and he drew forth the glove she had thrown on the strand for him to pick up--so long ago! “You will see papa, Tony?” said she, drawing down her veil; “you can't fail to meet him before night. Say you saw us. Good-bye.” And Tony stood alone on the mountain, and watched the cloud of dust that rose behind the carriage, and listened to the heavy tramp of the horses till the sounds died off in the distance. “Oh if I could trust the whisper at my heart!” cried he. “If I could--if I could--I 'd be happier than I ever dared to hope for.”