"Yes," he answered, smiling, "although in olden days—and above all, in Italy—it was scarcely to friends that one's approach was so announced."
It struck Flora forcibly at this moment how much pleasanter it would be to stand there talking to Mr. Earnscliffe about the poetry of serenades, than to join the others and take tea; but she knew that it could not be, and so, with a half-smothered sigh, she said—
"You see mamma and Marie in the arbour, Mr. Earnscliffe? Will you go to them whilst I desire tea to be brought up?"
"Cannot I spare you that trouble? I can order it."
"Thank you. I think I had better go myself. The hotel people do not know you. Please to go to the arbour."
"I obey," he rejoined, as he smilingly raised his hat, and went towards the arbour.
Flora was not a second absent, and as soon as tea, and the ices by which it was followed, were finished, the travelling plans were discussed. The Adairs expected to get to Meran about the fourth day after they left Venice; and it was agreed that Mr. Earnscliffe should meet them there, at the Post Hotel, and then they could engage the carriage for crossing the Brenner.
By the time that all this was settled it was past nine. Marie complained of having a headache, and went to bed, and Mr. Earnscliffe said—
"How beautiful the scene is from the terrace on such a night as this, Miss Adair."