He could not say more: he was engaged in devouring with his eyes every feature of her fair face, and thinking in his heart that he had underrated the power of her beauty. In the fortnight that he had been away from her he had pictured her to himself as not half so fair. She had taken off her out-door things, and was dressed in a very plain, brown gown, which fitted closely to her figure. At her throat she wore a little bunch of sweet autumn violets, with one little green leaf, fastened into her dress by a gold brooch. It was the very ostentation of simplicity, yet, with that noble carriage of her head and shoulders, and those massive coils of golden-brown hair, nobody could have failed to remark the distinction of her appearance, nor to recognise the fact that there is a kind of beauty which needs no ornament. Brian took off the ugly, blue spectacles which he had adopted of late, and laid them upon the mantelshelf. He did not need them in the flickering firelight, which alone illumined the dimness of the room. Elizabeth laid her shapely arm upon the mantelpiece and looked into the fire. He stood beside her, looking down at her--for he was a little taller than herself--but she seemed unconscious of his gaze. She spoke presently in rather low tones. "The boys are late. I hope they do not often keep you waiting in this way." "They have never done it before. I do not mind." "They were very anxious to have you back. They missed you very much." Had she missed him, too? He could not venture to ask that question. "You will find things changed," she went on, restlessly lifting a little vase upon the mantelpiece and setting it down again; "you will find us much busier than we used to be--much more absorbed in our own pursuits. Scotland is not like Italy." "No. I wish it were." "And I----" Her voice broke, as if some emotion troubled her; there came a swift, short sigh, and then she spoke more calmly. "I wish sometimes that one had no duties, no responsibilities; but life would not be worth having if one shirked them, after all." "There is a charm in life without them--at least, so far without them as that pleasant life in Italy used to be," said he, rather eagerly. "Yes, but that is all over." "All over?" She bowed her head. "Is there nothing left?" said Brian, approaching her a little more nearly. Then, as she was silent, he continued in a hurried, low voice, "I knew that life must be different here, but I thought that some of the pleasantest hours might be repeated--even in Scotland--although we are without those sunny skies and groves of orange trees. Even if the clouds are grey, and the winds howl without, we might still read Dante's 'Paradiso' and Petrarca's 'Sonnets,' as we used to do at the Villa Venturi." "Yes," said Elizabeth, gently, "we might. But here I shall not have time." "Why not? Why should you sacrifice yourself for others in the way you do? It is not right."