Italian song, that she cited with lighted eyes, and in melodious accents
--occasionally he reared his knightly head, and his lip quivered, as if
he had heard the sound of a trumpet. The inertness of long years was
shaken. The Heroic, that lay deep beneath all the humours of his
temperament, was reached, appealed to; and stirred within him, rousing up
all the bright associations connected with it, and long dormant. When he
arose to take leave, surprised at the lateness of the hour, Harley said,
in a tone that bespoke the sincerity of the compliment, "I thank you for
the happiest hours I have known for years." His eye dwelt on Violante as
he spoke.

But timidity returned to her with his words, at his look; and it was no
longer the inspired muse, but the bashful girl that stood before him.

"And when shall I see you again?" asked Riccabocca, disconsolately,
following his guest to the door.

"When? Why, of course, to-morrow. Adieu! my friend. No wonder you
have borne your exile so patiently,--with such a child!"

He took Leonard's arm, and walked with him to the inn where he had left
his horse. Leonard spoke of Violante with enthusiasm. Harley was
silent.




CHAPTER III.

The next day a somewhat old-fashioned, but exceedingly patrician,