In her mother’s tongue, which was as familiar to her as the English she generally spoke, she greeted him, with the grave and formal courtesy which sat more naturally upon her than the freedom of manner permitted in this country. Roma had spent most of her life in Italy, and felt herself more at home with her mother’s countrymen than with her father’s. She bid Signor Pagliadini be seated, and explained to him that her father had been ill, and was still very feeble; that he was now resting, and she feared to disturb him; but at the same time he must not be deprived of the pleasure of a visit like the present, and if the Signor would be so kind as to wait for half an hour, her father would be delighted to see him. The Signor would be delighted to do so, and expressed himself concerned to hear of the illness of Mr. Meredith. In a short time the two in the studio were talking easily and pleasantly together. ‘Did you know my father in Italy?’ Roma asked at length. ‘I am not sure, but I fancy I have seen your face somewhere.’ ‘We may possibly have met, Signorina,’ answered the Italian. ‘For I, too, have been much in Rome; but I had not the honour of personal acquaintance with your father then. I bring with me an introduction from Signor Mattei in Florence. When he heard that I proposed to visit England, he insisted that I should make myself known to the Signor Meredith, who, he tells me, has been settled here for some time.’ ‘Yes, we have been four years in England,’ answered Roma, with a smile and a sigh; ‘but I think I like Italy best.’ ‘I can understand that well,’ he answered, looking out into space with his bright, handsome eyes. ‘There is no country like our Italy.’ ‘No, I think not,’ assented Roma; and forthwith they fell to discussing its many perfections with a one-sided enthusiasm peculiarly Italian. Roma meantime studied with a certain artistic pleasure, the handsome head of the young foreigner. He had the thick, dark clustering locks so often seen in Italians, and his hair was rather longer than an Englishman’s would be, though not effeminately so. His eyes looked different colours in different lights, but they were good eyes, well formed and expressive, and their long black lashes and thick arched brows added greatly to their force and beauty. His features were good and delicately cut, and the expression of the mouth, so far as it could be seen through the moustache and silky black Vandyke beard, was both frank and sweet. Altogether it was a pleasant face to look upon, and Roma, who was without any ‘insular prejudice’ where foreigners were concerned, felt that she should like this man, and speculated a little as to who he was, and what could be the object of his visit. ‘Are these your works of art, may I ask, Signorina?’ inquired Signor Pagliadini by-and-by.