"Chi lo sa? Miss Adair, ... and you would admire Capri so much!... But I see that Jacobo is waiting for us to be silent."
Jacobo sang of the past glories of Venice, his countenance changing with every varying feeling as he kept time to the melody with his oar and the easy graceful motion of his body; now and then his companion joined in, and the two voices seemed to blend together and float away over the waters—the rich swelling tones of Jacobo's tenor and the deep bass notes of the other.
Reader, have you ever known what it is to recline in a gondola, shaded from the sun by its curtained roof, and the gentle motion, and the soft sound of the oars as they rise and fall, lulling you into dreamland? If at the same time you have heard rich voices poured forth in song whilst you basked in the presence of one dear to you, you have known a luxury of enjoyment!... How feeble are words to tell what its delight to Flora was. More than once she felt that Mr. Earnscliffe's eyes rested upon her, although she did not look up; she dreaded that even a movement might break the spell, and so she sat there immovably with half-closed eyes, drinking in all the sweetness of the hour....
Jacobo sang song after song until they reached the mouth of the Adriatic, and then he asked if they would like to go out upon the open sea. Flora—who only thought of how she could prolong the time—answered eagerly in the affirmative, and complimented Jacobo on his singing,—said that they were really delighted with it.
After they had gone a short way on the Adriatic and enjoyed the fresh breeze which then blew over it, Mrs. Adair proposed that they should return, saying that it would be tolerably advanced in the afternoon before they got home, and they had all their preparations to make for to-morrow's journey.
At their hotel stairs Mr. Earnscliffe wished them good-bye until the evening, and as his gondola sped down the canal, the girls stood watching it as they leaned over the balustrade, till Mrs. Adair said—
"Well, young ladies, are you going to stand there, not star—but, water-gazing all day? At this rate we shall have packed but little before evening."
She entered the hotel, followed by the girls; and now we shall leave them to that most interesting of occupations—packing, but revisit them with Mr. Earnscliffe in the evening.
About eight o'clock, then, as they sat in one of the arbours, where they had ordered tea to be served, they heard the sound of a serenade.
"It is Jacobo's voice!" exclaimed Flora, and she walked quickly to the railing to look for the expected gondola. In a few minutes more Mr. Earnscliffe stood beside her, and she said—"What a sweet serenade! It is certainly a very poetic way of announcing one's approach to friends!"