Which
means a residence in India, and perhaps separation from his wife and
children--if he should lose his health, a compulsory retirement; and
if he keeps it, toiling out there till old age, and then coming home
to spin out the remainder of his life on an inadequate pension. A man
who accepts service in India should make up his mind to live and die in
the country, but so many accidents may prevent it. And at the best, it
means banishment from England and all one’s friends and relations. Poor
Margaret feels that severely, I am sure!”

“Has Mrs. Pullen many relations then?”

“She has a mother still living, and several brothers and sisters,
besides her husband’s family. What a sweet, gentle woman she is! She
was kind to you, Hally, was she not, whilst you were abroad?”

By mutual agreement they never spoke of Heyst, or the Red House, or
anything which was associated with what Pennell called his wife’s
infatuation regarding herself. “Yes! she was very kind--at first,” replied Harriet, “until--until--it
all happened, and they went to England. Oh! do not let us talk of it!”
she broke off suddenly. “No! we will not! Have you unpacked your mandoline yet, Hally? Fetch
it, dear, and let me hear your lovely voice again! I shall get you to
sing to me when I am in the vein for composing! You would bring me all
sorts of beautiful ideas and phantasies!”

“Should I? should I?” exclaimed the girl joyfully. “Oh! how lovely! I should do a part of your work then, shouldn’t I, Tony?--I should
inspire you! Why, I would sing day and night for that!”

“No! no! my bird, I would not let you tire yourself! A few notes now
and then--they will help me more than enough. I must draw from you for
my next heroine, Hally! I could not have a fairer model!”

“Oh! Tony!”

She rushed to him in the extremity of her delight and hid her face upon
his breast. “I am not good enough, not pretty enough! Your heroines should be
perfect!”

“I don’t think so! I prefer them to be of flesh and blood, like you!”

He stooped his head and kissed her passionately. “Hally! Hally!” he whispered, “you draw my very life away!”

The girl got up suddenly, almost roughly, and walked into the next room
to fetch her mandoline. “No! no!” she cried to herself with a cold fear, “not that, my God, not
that!”

But when she returned with the instrument, she did not revert to the
subject, but played and sang as usual to her husband’s admiration and
delight. They “did” Florence very thoroughly during the first week of their stay
there, and were both completely tired. “I must really stay at home to-morrow,” cried Hally one afternoon on
returning to dinner, “Tony, I am regularly fagged out! I feel as if I
had a corn upon every toe!”

“So do I,” replied her husband, “and I cannot have my darling knocked
up by fatigue! We will be lazy to-morrow, Hally, and lie on two sofas
and read our books all day! I have been thinking for the last few days
that we have been going a little too fast! Let me see, child!--how long
have we been married?”

“Six weeks to-morrow,” she answered glibly. “Bless my soul! we are quite an old married couple, a species of Darby
and Joan! And have you been happy, Hally?”

The tears of excitement rushed into her dark eyes. “_Happy!_ That is no word for what I have been, Tony; I have been in
Heaven--in Heaven all the while!”

“And so have I,” rejoined her husband. “I met some nuns whilst I was out this morning,” continued Hally, “the
sisters of the Annunciation, and they stopped and spoke to me, and
were so pleased to hear that I had been brought up in a convent. ‘And
have you no vocation, my child?’ asked one of them. ‘Yes! Sister,’ I
replied, ‘I have--a big, strong, handsome vocation called my husband.’
They looked quite shocked, poor dears, at first, but I gave them a
subscription for their orphan schools--one hundred francs--and they
were so pleased. They said if I was sick whilst in Florence, I must
send for one of them, and she would come and nurse me! I gave it as a
thanksgiving, Tony--a thanksgiving offering because I am so very happy. I am not a good woman like Margaret Pullen, I know that, but I love
you--_I love you!_”

“Who said that you were not a good woman?” asked Pennell, as he drew
her fondly to his side, and kissed away the tears that hung on her dark
lashes. “Oh! I know I am not. Besides, you once said that Margaret Pullen was
the best woman you had ever known.”

“I think she is very sweet and unselfish,” replied Pennell musingly,
“she felt the loss of her infant terribly, Doctor Phillips told me, but
the way in which she struggled to subdue her grief, in order not to
distress others, was wonderful! Poor Margaret! how she mourns little
Ethel to this day.”

“Don’t! _don’t!_” cried Harriet in a stifled voice, “I cannot bear to
think of it!”

“My darling, it had nothing to do with you! I have told you so a
thousand times!”

“Yes! yes! I know you have--but I loved the little darling! It is
dreadful to me to think that she is mouldering in the grave!”

“Come, child, you will be hysterical if you indulge in any more
reminiscences! Suppose we go for a stroll through the Ghetto or some
other antiquated part of Florence. Or shall we take a drive into the
country? I am at your commands, Madam!”

“A drive, darling, then--a drive!” whispered his wife, as she left him
to get ready for the excursion. It was three hours before they returned to their rooms in the old
palazzo. Harriet was dull and somewhat silent, and Anthony confessed to
a headache. “I am not quite sure now,” he said, as they were dining, “whether
a trip to Australia or America would not do us both more good than
lingering about these mild, warm places. I think our constitutions
both require bracing rather than coddling. Australia is a grand young
country! I have often contemplated paying her a visit. What would you
say to it, Hally?”

“I should enjoy it as much as yourself, Tony! You so often have a
headache now! I think the drainage of these southern towns must be
defective!”

“Oh! shocking! They are famous for typhoid and malarial fevers. They
are not drained at all!”

“Don’t let us stay here long then! What should I do if you were to fall
ill?”

“You are far more liable to fall sick of the two, my darling,” returned
her husband, “I do not think your beautiful little body has much
strength to sustain it. And then what should _I_ do?”

“Ah! neither of us could do without the other, Tony!”

“Of course we couldn’t, and so we will provide against such a
contingency by moving on before our systems get saturated with miasma
and mistral. Will you sing to me to-night, Hally?”

“Not unless you very much wish it! I am a little tired. I feel as if I
couldn’t throw any expression into my songs to-night!”

“Then come here and sit down on the sofa beside me, and let us talk!”

She did as he desired, but Pennell was too sleepy to talk.