tweeds, as correct as Savile Row could turn them out, yet somehow, by
the way he wore them, proclaiming him immediately a man who never gave
two thoughts to his dress. If, however, Winthorpe's face was the face of
a Puritan, it was the face of a Puritan with a sense of humour--the
lines about the mouth were clearly the footprints of smiles. It seemed
the face of a sensitive Puritan, as well, and (maugre that high-bridged
nose) of a gentle--the light in his clear grey eyes was a kindly and
gentle light. After all, Governor Bradford, as his writings
show,--though he tried hard, perhaps, not to let them show it--was a
Puritan with a sense of humour; John Alden and Priscilla were surely
sensitive and gentle: and Winthorpe was descended from Governor
Bradford, and from John Alden and Priscilla. The two friends walked
backwards and forwards in the great open space before the Castle, and
talked. They had not met for nearly two years, and had plenty to talk
about.




II


Seated at one of the open windows of the pavilion beyond the clock,
Maria Dolores (in a pale green confection of I know not what airy, filmy
tissue) looked down, and somewhat vaguely watched them,--herself
concealed by the netted curtain, which, according to Italian usage, was
hung across the casement, to mitigate the heat and shut out insects. She
watched them at first vaguely, and only from time to time, for the rest
going on with some needlework she had in her lap. But by-and-by she
dropped her needlework altogether, and her watching became continuous