says things that embarrass her daughter, and that Miss Vervain seems to
try to restrain her?"

"I thought," returned Don Ippolito meditatively, "that the signorina
was always very tenderly submissive to her mother."

"Yes, so she is," said the painter dryly, and looked in annoyance from
the priest to the picture, and from the picture to the priest.

After a minute Don Ippolito said, "They must be very rich to live as
they do."

"I don't know about that," replied Ferris. "Americans spend and save in
ways different from the Italians. I dare say the Vervains find Venice
very cheap after London and Paris and Berlin."

"Perhaps," said Don Ippolito, "if they were rich you would be in a
position to marry her."

"I should not marry Miss Vervain for her money," answered the painter,
sharply.

"No, but if you loved her, the money would enable you to marry her."

"Listen to me, Don Ippolito. I never said that I loved Miss Vervain,
and I don't know how you feel warranted in speaking to me about the
matter. Why do you do so?"

"I? Why? I could not but imagine that you must love her. Is there
anything wrong in speaking of such things? Is it contrary to the