gods" to him when one day, as he was leaving his banker's on Via
Tornabuoni he met the familiar face of Malcom Douglas. And when he was
welcomed to his old schoolmate's home and family circle, the weary young
man felt for the first time in many months the sensation of rest and
peace.

His evident lack of physical strength, and the quickly coming and going
color in his cheeks, told Mrs. Douglas that he could never know perfect
health; but he said that the change of country and climate had already
done him much good, and this encouraged him to think of staying from
home a year or two in the hope that then all danger of active disease
might have passed.

He so evidently longed for companionship that Malcom and the girls told
him of their life,--of their Italian lessons,--their reading,--Mr.
Sumner's talks about Italian painting,--Malcom's private college studies
(which he had promised his mother to pursue if she would give him this
year abroad), and all that which was filling their days. He was
especially interested in their lessons on the Italian masters of
painting, and asked if they would permit him to join them.

"If you will only come to me when you have any trouble with your Greek
and Latin, Malcom," he said, "perhaps I can repay you in the slightest
degree for the wonderful pleasure this would give me."

So as Mr. Sumner was willing, his little class received the addition of
Howard Sinclair.

"Why so sober, Malcom?" asked his mother, as she found him alone by
himself. "Is not the arrangement that your friend join you agreeable?"