his mother's hopes for him a sort of loyalty in which Aurora had made
him fail. The reasonings of innocent sentiment are more tortuous than
the wiles of the devil himself, and have amazing power to torment the
unfledged conscience of a boy brought up like Marcello.

Aurora's way of thinking was much more direct.

"If you think I am disagreeable, you can go away," she said, with a
scornful laugh.

"Thank you. You are very kind." He tried to speak sarcastically, but it
was a decided failure.

To his surprise, Aurora turned and looked at him very quietly.

"I wonder whether I shall like you, when you are a man," she said in a
tone of profound reflection. "I am rather ashamed of liking you now,
because you are such a baby."

He flushed again, very angry this time, and he moved away to leave her,
without another word.

She turned her face to the storm and took no notice of him. She thought
that he would come back, but there was just the least doubt about it,
which introduced an element of chance and was perfectly delightful while
it lasted. Was there ever a woman, since the world began, who did not
know that sensation, either by experience or by wishing she might try
it? What pleasure would there be in angling if the fish did not try to
get off the hook, but stupidly swallowed it, fly and all? It might as
well crawl out of the stream at once and lay itself meekly down in the