Her cup of bliss was filled
to overflowing; her satisfaction was too deep for words. To this girl,
for whom the world had been seen as yet only through the barred windows
of a convent--who had never enjoyed the society of an intellectual
companion before; who had viewed no scenery but that of the Island;
seen no records of the past; and visited no foreign capital--the first
weeks of her married life were a panorama of novelties, her days one
long astonishment and delight. She could not adore Anthony Pennell sufficiently for having afforded
her the opportunity of seeing all this, and more especially of feeling
it. The presents he lavished upon her were as nothing in her eyes,
compared to the lover-like attentions he paid her; the bouquets of
flowers he brought her every morning; the glass of lemonade or milk he
had ready to supply her need when they were taking their excursions;
the warm shawl or mantle he carried on his arm in the evenings, lest
the air should become too chilly for her delicate frame after sunset. Money Harriet had no need of, but love--love she had thirsted for, as
the hart thirsts for the water-streams, yet had never imagined it could
be poured out at her feet, as her husband poured it now. And Pennell, on the other hand, though he had been much sought after
and flattered by the fair sex for the sake of the fame he had acquired
and the money he made, had never lost his heart to any woman as he had
done to his little unknown wife. He had never met anyone like Hally
before. She combined the intelligence of the Englishwoman with the
_espièglerie_ of the French--the devotion of the Creole with the fiery
passion of the Spanish or Italian. He could conceive her quite capable
of dying silently and uncomplainingly for him, or anyone she loved;
or on the other hand stabbing her lover without remorse if roused by
jealousy or insult. He was hourly discovering new traits in her character which delighted
him, because they were so utterly unlike any possessed by the women of
the world, with whom he had hitherto associated. He felt as though he
had captured some beautiful wild creature and was taming it for his own
pleasure. Harriet would sit for hours at a time in profound silence,
contemplating his features or watching his actions--crouched on the
floor at his feet, until he was fain to lay down his book or writing,
and take to fondling her instead. She was an ever-constant joy to him;
he felt it would be impossible to do anything to displease her so long
as he loved her--that like the patient Griselda she would submit to
any injustice and meekly call it justice if from _his_ hand. And yet
he knew all the while that the savage in her was _not_ tamed--that at
any moment, like the domesticated lion or tiger, her nature might
assert itself and become furious, wild and intractable. It was the
very uncertainty that pleased him; men love the women of whom they are
not quite certain, all the more. From Nice they wandered to Mentone,
but the proximity of the Monte Carlo tables had no charm for Anthony
Pennell. He was not a speculative man: his brain was filled with better
things, and he only visited such places for the sake of reproduction. Although the autumn was now far advanced, the air of Mentone was too
enervating to suit either of them, and Pennell proposed that they
should move on to Italy. “I must show you Venice and Rome before we return home, Hally,” he
said, “and when I come to think of it, why should we return to England
at all just yet? Why not winter in Rome? Richards is always advising
me to take a good, long holiday. He says I overwork my brain and it
reacts upon my body--what better opportunity could we find to adopt his
advice? Hitherto I have pooh-poohed the idea! Wandering over a foreign
country in solitary grandeur held no charms for me, but with you, my
darling, to double the pleasure of everything, any place assumes the
appearance of Paradise! What do you say, little wife? Shall we set up
our tent South until the spring?”

“Don’t you feel well, Tony?” asked Harriet, anxiously. “Never better in my life, dear! I am afraid you will not make an
interesting invalid out of me. I am as fit as a fiddle. But I fancy
my next novel will deal with Italy, and I should like to make a few
notes of the spots I may require to introduce. It is nothing to take me
away from you, darling. We will inspect the old places together, and
your quick eye and clear brain shall help me in my researches. Is it a
settled thing, Hally?”

“O! yes, darling!” she replied, “anywhere with you! The only place I
shall ever object to, will be the one where I cannot go with you.”

“That place does not exist on this earth, Hally,” said Pennell, “but
if you are willing, we may as well start to-morrow, for if we leave it
till too late, we shall find all the best winter quarters pre-engaged.”

He left the room, as she thought rather hurriedly, but as he gained the
hotel corridor he slightly staggered and leaned against the wall. He
had told his wife that he was quite well, but he knew it was not the
truth. He had felt weak and enervated ever since coming to Mentone, but
he ascribed it to the soft mild atmosphere. “Confound this dizziness!” he said inwardly, as the corridor swam
before his eyes, “I think my liver must be out of order, and yet I
have been taking plenty of exercise. It must be this mild moist air. Heat never did agree with me. I shall be glad to get on. We shall find
Florence cold by comparison.”

He descended to the bureau and announced his intention of giving up his
rooms on the morrow, and then ordered a carriage and returned to take
Hally out for a drive. In Florence they procured rooms in a grand old palazzo, furnished
with rococo chairs and tables, placed upon marble floors. Harriet was
charmed and astonished by the ease with which they got everything _en
route_, as though they possessed Aladin’s lamp, she told Pennell, and
had but to wish to obtain. “Ah! Hally!” said her husband, “we have something better than the
genie’s lamp--we have money! _That_ is the true magician in this
century. I am very thankful that you have a fortune of your own, my
dearest, because I know that whatever happens, my girl will be able to
hold her own with the world!”

Harriet grew pale. “What _could_ happen?” she stammered. “My silly little goose, are we immortal?” he replied, “I make a
first-rate income, my dear, but have not laid by enough as yet to leave
you more than comfortably off, but with your own money----”

“Don’t speak of it, pray don’t speak of it!” she exclaimed, with ashen
lips, and noting her distress, Pennell changed the subject. “You are a lucky little woman,” he continued, “I wonder what some
people would give to possess your income--poor Margaret Pullen for
instance.”

“Why Mrs. Pullen in particular, Tony? Are they poor?”

“Not whilst Colonel Pullen is on active service, but he has nothing
but his pay to depend upon, and whilst he can work, he must.