"I dare say you are tired, Saunders; you may retire; give me my dressing gown; there, that will do, I shall comb out my hair."
And, arrayed in dainty dressing gown, of white embroidered flannel, the combing of the bright tresses is a lengthy affair, for thought is busy; "Yes, this intense sympathy, this earnest tenderness, this languor and sweet sense of a new joy in living, all mean that I love him; and, as 'tis so, I am not at one with the poet when he says, ''tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all;' lost! lost! what a world of loneliness it would be to me, what a world of loneliness in the very word; my love, your mesmeric eyes seem to be on me now; I wonder," and a smile comes to the dark eyes and the sweet mouth, "I wonder what you would think of me in this robe; but what nonsense I am dreaming," and the robe de nuit is on; the short, fluffy hair pushed up a little from the eyes, which close as the soft cheek presses the pillow, and Somnus, the sleepy god, claims his dues.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE UNRULY MEMBER IS HEARD.
The following morn is bright and glorious, the mountains, ah! the grandeur of them, their peaks in changing hues as the sun's breath grows warmer, cut the azure of the heavens, and rest there; one involuntarily feels on a morning like this one cannot love nature intensely enough; and now, Old Sol, giving his brightest beams to the Italian, who loves him, shines into every corner of the Eternal City, from the King in his palace, and the Pope in the palace of the Vatican, to the peasant stretched on his door-step; for the good king Victor Emmanuel is sick, and the bright beams shining through his window, cheer him; and he thinks of his people who are poor and ill, and also welcomes the sunbeams for their sake. And his gentle Holiness, Pius IX, in walking past the great painting of the Transfiguration, thinks "how glorious it looks in the sun's rays," and he too was glad. And the lazy peasant lying in the sun, stretched himself and was glad, for surely many noble ladies and gentlemen would be abroad in the sweet warm air, and he would beg many soldi and buy macaroni.
Vaura, usually an early riser, but not having slept until dawn, was only awakened an hour ago by a sunbeam opening her eyelids, so that it was luncheon hour ere she made her appearance in the aesthetic little morning-room, whither Lady Esmondet had ordered it to be brought; on entering kissed her god-mother, and giving her hand to Lionel, her eyes drooping under his long gaze,
"You look quite yourself, god-mother mine, after your nights rest," she said.
"Yes, I am feeling very well to-day; but your roses are of a pale tint, how is that?"
"Whose roses could bloom with undimmed lustre surrounded by flowers of such brilliant colouring?" she answered, evasively, indicating by a gesture the floral beauties filling the vases and jars, not wishing to own before Lionel her sweet sleeplessness of the night.
Captain Trevalyon's man now brought letters from the post-office.