"Darling! what should I do if anything were to take you from me?" and he shivered.
Flora had observed that the fonder he appeared to be of her the more did he seem haunted by a morbid dread of losing her, and she asked, "What makes you fear that anything should take me from you?"
"Because you are so precious to me, child, and I am so unaccustomed to happiness that I can scarcely believe in its realisation. I wish we were married and that I had you safe at Earnscliffe Court." He could not tell her about Mary Elton and his strange dream;—of the former he was of course bound in honour not to speak, and of the latter it seemed so foolish and superstitious even to think; yet it was the remembrance of these which so often made him thoughtful and silent.
Flora saw that he was in a desponding mood, and in order to distract him from his gloomy thoughts, she began to question him about Earnscliffe Court, what the grounds and house were like, until by the time they reached the term of their walk he was talking gaily about the fitting up of the rooms for her reception, and as the others joined them he appealed to Mrs. Adair for advice on the subject.
In such walks and talks time slipped quickly by—time, that tyrant which ever flees when we would have it stay its course, and drags when we would give worlds to have it accelerate its speed!... How its wheels are going now for Mr. Earnscliffe and Flora! They are tearing up the hill at full speed, but at the summit the drag will be put on, and the descent will be slow and weary.
The morning but one after their arrival at Tegernsee they drove to Holzkirchen, and there got into the train for Munich. At the terminus Mr. Earnscliffe's servant, who had been sent on to engage rooms, met them with a carriage to take them to the Hotel des Quatre Saisons, where apartments had been taken for them.
How well does Munich merit its title of the Athens of Germany, with all its art repositories! Its fine wide streets and gay shops, too, claim for it a share of admiration from the lovers of handsome modern cities. A week passes quickly there, and even then we come away without having really seen all its treasures, as it would indeed take a long time to exhaust the resources of its different galleries. In the old Pinacothek there are original paintings of the Spanish, Flemish, French, and Italian schools. Of the last-named school we see subjects from the pencil of its very earliest pupils,—Cimabue, Giotto, Sodoma, and Beato Angelico. And standing before a picture of the Frate's we find Mr. Earnscliffe and Flora, the day after their arrival in Munich; Mrs. Adair and Marie had just gone into one of the other rooms.
"Do you like Fra Angelico's pictures?" asked Flora.
"Yes, he is an exquisite painter."