garden, had escaped the eye of Giacomo when he had gone forth to answer
the bell; and she, unconscious of the fears of which she was the object,
had felt something of youthful curiosity at the summons at the gate, and
the sight of a stranger in close and friendly conference with the
unsocial Giacomo.

As Harley now neared her with that singular grace of movement which
belonged to him, a thrill shot through her heart, she knew not why. She
did not recognize his likeness to the sketch taken by her father from his
recollections of Harley's early youth. She did not guess who he was; and
yet she felt herself colour, and, naturally fearless though she was,
turned away with a vague alarm.

"Pardon my want of ceremony, Signorina," said Harley, in Italian; "but I
am so old a friend of your father's that I cannot feel as a stranger to
yourself."

Then Violante lifted to him her dark eyes so intelligent and so
innocent,--eyes full of surprise, but not displeased surprise. And
Harley himself stood amazed, and almost abashed, by the rich and
marvellous beauty that beamed upon him. "My father's friend," she said
hesitatingly, and I never to have seen you!"

"Ah, Signorina," said Harley (and something of its native humour, half
arch, half sad, played round his lip), "you are mistaken there; you have
seen me before, and you received me much more kindly then."

"Signor!" said Violante, more and more surprised, and with a yet richer
colour on her cheeks.