_Some_ substance casts these shadows
Which we call Life and History,
That aimless seem to chase and flee
Like wind-gleams over meadows.

Simply? That's nobly: 'tis to know
That God may still be met with,
Nor groweth old, nor doth bestow
These senses fine, this brain aglow,
To grovel and forget with.

--JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.




Chapter I.

The Unexpected Happens.

_And foorth they passe with pleasure forward led._

--SPENSER.

[Illustration: BARBARA'S HOME.]


"O Barbara! _do_ you think papa and mamma will let us go? _Can_ they
afford it? Just to think of Italy, and sunshine, and olive trees, and
cathedrals, and pictures! Oh, it makes me wild! Will you not ask them,