Flora Adair thought and dreamed of the truest love to be found on earth, and without it life seemed to her but a sunless sojourn. Could she but have soared high enough so to love God, without the intervention of any creature, how great would have been her happiness! No struggle, no doubting, no separation possible! To this, however, she felt unequal,—she rested on a less lofty height, yet it was still a height, since all love, in order, is homage to God!
Was this great enjoyment of Mr. Earnscliffe's society the dawning of her dream of day? We can only answer that she herself did not so think about it; she only felt that he pleased her more than any other had ever done, and that she wished her ankle had not got well so quickly, that she might still have had the pleasure of meeting him frequently.
To dissipate the weariness which she felt to be stealing upon her, she proposed to her mother and Lucy to go to the Blakes, as Mina Blake had said something about going on that day to the novitiate house of one of the teaching Orders, to see Madame Ely, an old and intimate friend of theirs, who was an inmate of that convent, and had asked if they would like to go also. Flora said that she would be delighted to meet Madame Ely again in order to see if the warm poetic South had softened that apt pupil of the frigid discipline of her Order, or if she were still the same icy being as before in their northern climes. Mrs. Adair agreed to the proposal, but Lucy declined, pleading that she had a pretty novel and would rather stay at home to finish it than go to see such a prim old lady as Flora described Madame Ely to be. Accordingly, Lucy was left to her novel, and Mrs. Adair and Flora set off for the Piazza di Venezia, where the Blakes lived.
Of "the Blakes" there were only the mother and daughter then in Rome, Mr. Blake had not been able to accompany his wife and their only child, Mina, to Italy. Mrs. Blake was very lady-like, clever, and agreeable. Mina and Flora had been school companions and were great friends; there were some traits of similarity between the two girls—both were habitually reserved and undemonstrative in manner, although enthusiastic enough when they liked any one very much; but they were not easily attracted, and their apparent indifference made them somewhat unpopular.
The arrival of the Adairs was greeted by many expressions of pleasure, especially from Mina, who exclaimed, "Oh, Flora! I am so glad that you have come, because you and Mrs. Adair will, perhaps, join Miss Lecky and me in going to the convent,—you remember I spoke of it the other day. Mamma has got a cold and cannot come, so I was in despair at the prospect of an afternoon's drive tête-à-tête with old Lecky. We are to go to the Doria Villa afterwards—do come."
"I shall be delighted," answered Flora; "and mamma, will you not come also?"
Mrs. Adair assented, and Mina said she would go and get ready, as they were to call at the hotel for "old Lecky" at four, and it was then half-past three. She soon returned dressed for the expedition, and the Adairs took leave of Mrs. Blake. When they reached the Piazza they called one of the open carriages which are so common in Rome, and drove to the Hotel d'Amerique, where Miss Lecky was staying. She did not keep them waiting many minutes, so they reached the convent a little after four.
They were shown into a small square room, the walls of which were white-washed; rows of cane chairs and a table in the centre completed its furniture. There was a glass door standing open leading into a garden which looked so fresh and green in the bright sunshine that Mina said it would be a blessed change from that little cold, prim room; she hoped that Madame Ely would ask them to walk in it, so that they might mount the rising ground at the back and see from it the celebrated view of Rome. This hope, however, was not destined to be gratified by Madame Ely, who made her appearance just as Mina ceased speaking. She was tall and slight, with finely cut, sharp features, dark brown piercing eyes, thin lips, and a firmly closed mouth; she looked as rigid as ever, and her manner was as freezing. Flora saw at a glance that not even Italian suns had succeeded in melting that block of ice.
She whispered to Mina, "Byron says—
'The deepest ice which ever froze,
Can only o'er the surface close;'