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Erica　left　most　of　the　talking　to　her　father；　just　then　she　felt　no　wish　to　put　a　single　thought　into　words。　　She　wanted　only　to　enjoy　the　blissful　dream…like　happiness　which　was　so　new；　and　rare；　and　wonderful　that　it　brought　with　it　the　feeling　that　any　very　definite　thought　or　word　must　bring　it　to　an　end。　　Perfect　harmony　with　your　surroundings。　　Yes；　that　was　indeed　a　very　true　definition　of　happiness；　and　of　late　the　surroundings　had　been　so　grim　and　stormy。　　She　seemed　to　tread　upon　air　as　they　roamed　about　the　lovely　walks。　　The　long；　green　vistas　were　to　her　a　veritable　paradise。　　Her　father　looked　so　happy；　too；　and　had　so　entirely　shaken　off　his　cares；　and　Brian；　who　was　usually　rather　silent；　seemed　today　a　perfect　fountain　of　talk。

Since　that　December　day　in　Westminster　Hall　a　great　change　had　come　over　Erica。　　Not　a　soul　besides　Brian　and　herself　knew　anything　about　the　scene　with　Sir　Algernon　Wyte。　　Not　a　word　had　passed　between　them　since　upon　the　subject；　but　perhaps　because　of　the　silence；　that　day　was　all　the　more　in　the　thoughts　of　each。　　The　revelation　of　Brian's　love　revealed　also　to　Erica　much　in　his　character　which　had　hitherto　perplexed　her　simply　because　she　had　not　seen　it　in　the　true　light。　　There　had　always　been　about　him　a　wistfulness　bordering　on　sadness　which　had　sometimes　almost　angered　her。　　For　so　little　do　even　intimate　friends　know　each　other；　that　lives；　which　seem　all　peaceful　and　full　of　everything　calculated　to　bring　happiness；　are　often　the　ones　which　are　preyed　upon　by　some　grievous　trouble　or　anxiety　unknown　to　any　outsider。　　If　he　had　indeed　loved　her　all　those　seven　years　he　must　have　suffered　fearfully。　　What　the　suffering　had　been　Erica　could；　from　her　present　position；　understand　well　enough。　　The　thought　of　it　touched　her　inexpressibly；　seemed　to　her；　as　indeed　it　was；　the　shadow　of　that　Divine　Love　which　had　loved　her　eternally　had　waited　for　her　through　long　years　had　served　her　and　shielded　her；　though　she　never　recognized　its　existence　till　at　length；　in　one　flash　of　light；　the　revelation　had　come　to　her；　and　she　had　learned　the　glory　of　Love；　the　murky　gloom　of　those　past　misunderstandings。

Those　were　wonderful　days　that　they　spent　together　at　Florence；　the　sort　of　days　that　come　but　once　in　a　life　time；　for　the　joy　of　dawn　is　quite　distinct　from　the　bright　noon　day　or　the　calm　evening；　distinct；　too；　from　that　second　and　grander　dawn　which　awaits　us　in　the　Unseen　when　the　night　of　life　is　over。　　Together　they　wandered　through　the　long　corridors　of　the　Uffizzi；　together　they　returned　again　and　again　to　the　Tribune；　or　traversed　that　interminable　passage　across　the　river　which　leads　to　the　Pitti　Gallery；　or　roamed　about　among　the　old　squares　and　palaces　which　are　haunted　by　so　many　memories。　　And　every　day　Brian　meant　to　speak；　but　could　not　because　the　peace；　and　restfulness；　and　glamour　of　the　present　was　so　perfect；　and　perhaps　because；　unconsciously；　he　felt　that　these　were　〃halcyon　days。〃

On　Sunday　he　made　up　his　mind　that　he　certainly　would　speak　before　the　day　was　over。　　He　went　with　Erica　to　see　the　old　monastery　of　San　Marco　before　morning　service　at　the　English　church。　　But；　though　they　were　alone　together；　he　could　not　bring　himself　to　speak　there。　　They　wandered　from　cell　to　cell；　looking　at　those　wonderful　frescoes　of　the　Crucifixion　in　each　of　which　Fra　Angelico　seemed　to　gain　some　fresh　thought；　some　new　view　of　his　inexhaustible　subject。　　And　Brian；　watching　Erica；　thought　how　that　old　master　would　have　delighted　in　the　pure　face　and　perfect　coloring；　in　the　short　auburn　hair　which　was　in　itself　a　halo；　but　could　not　somehow　just　then　draw　her　thoughts　away　from　the　frescoes。　　Together　they　stood　in　the　little　cells　occupied　once　by　Savonarola；　looked　at　the　strange；　stern　face　which　Bastianini　chiseled　so　effectively；　stood　by　the　old　wooden　desk　where　Savonarola　had　written　and　read；　saying　very　little　to　one　another；　but　each　conscious　that　the　silence　was　one　of　perfect　understanding　and　sympathy。　　Then　came　the　service　in　a　hideous　church；　which　yet　seemed　beautiful　to　them；　with　indifferent　singing；　which　was　somehow　sweeter　to　them　than　the　singing　of　a　trained　choir　elsewhere。

But；　on　returning　to　the　hotel；　Brian　found　that　his　chances　for　that　day　were　over　for　all　the　afternoon　Erica　had　to　receive　a　constant　succession　of　visitors　who；　as　she　said；　turned　her　father　for　the　time　being　into　the　〃British　lion。〃　　In　the　evening；　too；　when　they　walked　in　the　Cascine；　they　were　no　longer　alone。　　Raeburn　went　with　then；　and　as　they　paced　along　the　broad　avenue　with　the　Arno　gleaming　through　the　fresh　green　of　the　trees；　talking　of　the　discussions　of　the　past　week；　he　inadvertently　touched　the　note　of　pain　in　an　otherwise　cloudless　day。

〃The　work　is　practically　over　now；〃　he　said。　　〃But　I　think　I　must　take　a　day　or　two　to　see　a　little　of　Florence。　　I　must　be　at　Salsburg　to　meet　Hasenbalg　by　Wednesday　week。　　Can　you　be　ready　to　leave　here　on　Wednesday；　Eric？〃

〃Oh；　yes；　father；〃　she　said　without　hesitation　or　comment　but　with　something　in　her　voice　which　told　Brian　that　she；　too；　felt　a　pang　of　regret　at　the　thought　that　their　days　in　that　city　of　golden　dreams　were　so　soon　to　be　ended。

The　Monday　morning；　however；　proved　so　perfect　a　day　that　it　dispelled　the　shadow　that　had　fallen　on　them。　　Raeburn　wished　to　go　to　Fiesole；　and　early　in　the　morning　Brian；　having　secured　a　carriage　and　settled　the　terms　with　the　crafty…looking　Italian　driver；　they　set　off　together。　　The　sunny　streets　looked　sunnier　than　ever；　the　Tornabuoni　was　as　usual　lively　and　bustling；　the　flower　market　at　the　base　of　the　Palazza　Strozzi　was　gay　with　pinks　and　carnations　and　early　roses。　　They　drove　out　of　the　city；　passed　innumerable　villas；　out　into　the　open　country　where　the　only　blot　upon　the　fair　landscape　was　a　funeral　train；　the　coffin　borne　by　those　gruesome　beings；　the　Brothers　of　the　Misericordia；　with　their　black　robes　and　black　face　cloths　pierced　only　with　holes　for　the　eyes。

〃Is　it　necessary　to　make　death　so　repulsive？〃　said　Raeburn。　　〃Our　own　black　hearses　are　bad　enough；　but　upon　my　word；　I　should　be　sorry　to　be　carried　to　my　grave　by　such　grim　beings！〃

He　took　off　his　hat；　however；　as　they　passed；　and　that　not　merely　out　of　deference　to　the　custom　of　the　country　but　because　of　the　deep　reverence　with　which　he　invariably　regarded　the　dead　a　reverence　which　in　his　own　country　was　marked　by　the　involuntary　softening　of　his　voice　when　he　alluded　to　the　death　of　others；　the　token　of　a　nature　which；　though　strangely　twisted；　was　in　truth　deeply　reverential。

Then　began　the　long　ascent；　the　road；　as　usual；　being　lined　with　beggars　who　importunately　followed　the　carriage；　while；　no　sooner　had　they　reached　the　village　itself　than　they　were　besieged　by　at　least　a　dozen　women　selling　the　straw　baskets　which　are　the　specialty　of　Fiesole。

〃Ecco；　signor！　Ecco　signorina！　　Vary　sheep！　　Vary　sheep！〃　resounded　on　all　sides；　each　vendor　thrusting　her　wares　forward　so　that　progress　was　impossible。

〃What　a　plague　this　is！〃　said　Raeburn。　〃They'll　never　leave　you　in　peace；　Erica；　they　are　too　well　used　to　the　soft　hearted　signorina　Inglese。〃

〃Well；　then；　I　shall　leave　you　to　settle　them；〃　said　Erica；　laughing；　〃and　see　if　I　can't　sketch　a　little　in　the　amphitheatre。　　They　can't　torment　us　there　because　there　is　an　entrance　fee。〃

〃All　right；　and　I　will　try　this　bird's　eye　view　of　Florence；〃　said　Raeburn；　establishing　himself　upon　the　seat　which　stands　on　the　verge　of　the　hill　looking　southward。　　He　was　very　fond　of　making　pen…and…ink　sketches；　and　by　his　determined；　though　perfectly　courteous　manner；　he　at　last　succeeded　in　dismissing　the　basket　women。

Erica　and　Brian；　in　the　meantime；　walked　down　the　steep　little　path　which　leads　back　to　the　village；　on　their　way　encountering　a　second　procession　of　Brothers　bearing　a　coffin。　　In　a　few　minutes　they　had　found　their　way　to　a　quiet　garden　at　the　remote　end　of　which；　far　from　the　houses　of　Fiesole　and　sheltered　on　all　sides　by　the　green　Apennines；　was　an　old　Roman　amphitheatre。　　Grass　and　flowers　had　sprung　up　now　on　the　arena　where　in　olden　times　had　been　fearful　struggles　between　men　and　beasts。　　Wild　roses　and　honeysuckle　drooped　over　the　gray　old　building；　and　in　between　the　great　blocks　of　stone　which　formed　the　tiers　of　seats　for　the　spectators　sprung　the　yellow　celandine　and　the　white　star　of　Bethlehem。

Erica　sat　down　upon　one　of　the　stony　seats　and　began　to　sketch　the　outline　of　the　hills　and　roughly　to　draw　in　the　foreground　the　further　side　of　the　amphitheatre　and　broken　column　which　lay　in　the　middle。

〃Would　you　mind　fetching　me　some　water？〃　she　said　to　Brian。

There　was　a　little　trickling　stream　close　by；　half　hidden　by　bramble　bushes。　　Brian　filled　her　glass　and　watched　her　brush　as　she　washed　in　the　sky。

〃Is　that　too　blue；　do　you　think？〃　she　asked；　glancing　up　at　him　with　one　of　her　bright　looks。

〃Nothing　could　be　too　deep　for　such　a　sky　as　this；〃　he　replied；　half　absently。　　Then；　with　a　sudden　change　of　tone；　〃Erica；　do　you　remember　the　first　day　you　spoke　to　me？〃

〃Under　murky　London　skies　very　unlike　these；〃　she　said；　laughing　a　little；　but　nervously。　　〃You　mean　the　day　when　our