Eleanor | Page 8

still divine.
Several times Mrs. Burgoyne addressed her--with a gentle
courtesy--and Miss Foster answered. She was shy, but not at all
awkward or conscious. Her manner had the essential self-possession
which is the birthright of the American woman. But it suggested
reserve, and a curious absence of any young desire to make an effect.
As for Mrs. Burgoyne, long before dinner was over, she had divined a
great many things about the new-comer, and amongst them the girl's
disapproval of herself. 'After all'--she thought--'if she only knew it, she

is a beauty. What a trouble it must have been first to find, and then to
make that dress!--Ill luck!--And her hair! Who on earth taught her to
drag it back like that? If one could only loosen it, how beautiful it
would be! What is it? Is it Puritanism? Has she been brought up to go
to meetings and sit under a minister? Were her forbears married in
drawing-rooms and under trees? The Fates were certainly frolicking
when they brought her here! How am I to keep Edward in order?'
And suddenly, with a little signalling of eye and brow, she too
conveyed to Manisty, who was looking listlessly towards her, that he
was behaving as badly as even she could have expected. He made a
little face that only she saw, but he turned to Miss Foster and began to
talk,--all the time adding to the mountain of crumbs beside him, and
scarcely waiting to listen to the girl's answers.
'You came by Pisa?'
'Yes. Mrs. Lewinson found me an escort--'
'It was a mistake--' he said, hurrying his words like a schoolboy. 'You
should have come by Perugia and Spoleto. Do you know Spello?'
Miss Foster stared.
'Edward!' said Miss Manisty, 'how could she have heard of Spello? It is
the first time she has ever been in Italy.'
'No matter!' he said, and in a moment his moroseness was lit up, chased
away by the little pleasure of his own whim--'Some day Miss Foster
must hear of Spello. May I not be the first person to tell her that she
should see Spello?'
'Really, Edward!' cried Miss Manisty, looking at him in a mild
exasperation.
'But there was so much to see at Florence!' said Lucy Foster,
wondering.

'No--pardon me!--there is nothing to be seen at Florence--or nothing
that one ought to wish to see--till the destroyers of the town have been
hung in their own new Piazza!'
'Oh yes!--that is a real disfigurement!' said the girl eagerly. 'And
yet--can't one understand?--they must use their towns for themselves.
They can't always be thinking of them as museums--as we do.'
'The argument would be good if the towns were theirs,' he said, flashing
round upon her. 'One can stand a great deal from lawful owners.'
Miss Foster looked in bewilderment at Mrs. Burgoyne. That lady
laughed and bent across the table.
'Let me warn you, Miss Foster, this gentleman here must be taken with
a grain of salt when he talks about poor Italy--and the Italians.'
'But I thought'--said Lucy Foster, staring at her host--
'You thought he was writing a book on Italy? That doesn't matter. It's
the new Italy of course that he hates--the poor King and Queen--the
Government and the officials.'
'He wants the old times back?'--said Miss Foster, wondering--'when the
priests tyrannised over everybody? when the Italians had no
country--and no unity?'
She spoke slowly, at last looking her host in the face. Her frown of
nervousness had disappeared. Manisty laughed.
'Pio Nono pulled down nothing--not a brick--or scarcely. And it is a
most excellent thing, Miss Foster, to be tyrannised over by priests.'
His great eyes shone--one might even say, glared upon her. His manner
was not agreeable; and Miss Foster coloured.
'I don't think so'--she said, and then was too shy to say any more.
'Oh, but you will think so,'--he said, obstinately--'only you must stay

long enough in the country. What people are pleased to call Papal
tyranny puts a few people in prison--and tells them what books to read.
Well!--what matter? Who knows what books they ought to read?'
'But all their long struggle!--and their heroes! They had to make
themselves a nation--'
The words stumbled on the girl's tongue, but her effort, the hot feeling
in her young face became her.--Miss Manisty thought to herself, 'Oh,
we shall dress, and improve her--We shall see!'--
'One has first to settle whether it was worth while. What does a new
nation matter? Theirs, anyway, was made too quick,' said Manisty,
rising in answer to his aunt's signal.
'But liberty matters!' said the girl. She stood an instant with her hand on
the back of her chair, unconsciously defiant.
'Ah! Liberty!' said Manisty--'Liberty!' He lifted his shoulders
contemptuously.
Then backing to the wall, he made