Rollo was himself moved more than he could have imagined possible by this encounter. He said nothing as he followed his companions to the Signor’s house, and did not even remark what they were saying, so occupied was he in going over again the trivial events of the last few minutes. As he did so, it occurred to him for the first time that Lottie had not so much as spoken to him all the time; not a word had she said, though he had found no deficiency in her. It was evident, then, that there might be a meeting which should fill a man’s mind with much pleasant excitement and commotion, and leave on his thoughts a very delightful impression, without one word said by the lady. This idea amused him in the pleasant agitation of his being to which the encounter at the church door had given rise. He forgot what he had come for, and the rudeness of his partner, and the refusal of that personage to think at all of Lottie. He did not want any further discussion of this question; he had forgotten, even, that it could require to be discussed. Somehow all at once, yet completely, Lottie had changed character to him; he did not want to talk her over with anyone, and he forgot altogether the subject upon which the conversation must necessarily turn when he followed the Signor and his big companion through the groups of people who began to emerge from the Abbey. There were a great many who stared at Rollo, knowing who he was, but none who roused him from his preoccupation. Fortunately the Dean had a cold and was not visible, and Lady Caroline did not profess to go to church in the afternoon--“It was too soon after lunch, and there were so many people, and one never felt that one had the Abbey to one’s self,” her ladyship said. The Manager went off to Italy the next day, after his Milanese, without being at all restrained by Rollo, who was glad to get rid of him, and to have no more said about the English _prima donna_. He did not quite like it even, so perverse was he, when the Signor, sitting out upon his terrace, defended her against the _impresario’s_ hasty verdict: “She has a beautiful voice, so far as that goes,” the Signor said, with the gravity of a judge; “you are mistaken if you do not admire her voice; we have had occasion to hear it, and we know what it is, so far as that goes.” “You dog!” said the jovial Manager, with a large fat laugh. “I see something else if I don’t see that. Ah, Rossinetti! hit too?” “Do you happen to know what he means?” said the Signor with profound gravity, turning his fine eyes upon Ridsdale. “Ah! it is a pleasantry, I suppose. I have not the same appreciation of humour that I might have had, had I been born an Englishman,” he said, with a seriousness that was portentous, without relaxing a muscle.