"Why are you going off so suddenly?"
An unwelcome idea flashed into his brain. Could Nancy have confided in her chaperon?
"To a plain question, I'll give you a plain answer, my dear boy. There are two kinds of discretion: one voluntary; the other enforced. I find that people have begun to notice that you and my little girl are very much together, and although it is a most innocent friendship, still it does not do for Nancy to be talked about, so we will remove ourselves."
"What an infernal shame," exclaimed her godson, looking surprisingly vexed. "The venomous tongues of some devils wouldn't leave an angel alone."
"And you, my dear Dudley, are by all accounts, far from being an angel!—I have heard some sad tales."
"Which of course you don't believe! Have you ever known me to play the fool with any of your friends?" He paused for a reply. As none was forthcoming he continued, "I cannot tell you what a happy time I have put in here. You know I always feel so much at home with you, dear Auntie Wolfe!" and he stooped and kissed her on her cheek. Then, straightening himself, he said, as if struck by a bright idea: "I've not been in Florence for a couple of years,—I believe I'll run down there next week."
"No, Dudley," protested his godmother, raising her thin old hand, "that I positively forbid. You will see us in town,—and later at the Court, but abroad, no more! It is so easy to be conspicuous in a small do-nothing circle, and I'm sure you are quite as sensitive about Nancy's reputation—though that is too big a word—as I am myself."
During the remaining two days, Dudley's manner to Nancy was perfect, and entirely of the kindly elder brother type. He gave her sketches of their favourite spots, supplied her with books for the journey, and went all the way to Como, to put the ladies and their parcels into the train, himself. Then returned down the lake alone, in a condition of most abject misery. For days he walked and boated in the neighbourhood of Cadenabbia; a melancholy object of picturesque dejection. Those who witnessed and marked this change, said to one another, "Dudley Villars has been badly hit this time; serves him jolly well right!" He wrote cheerful (and exchangeable) letters to both ladies, giving them to understand, that he was excessively gay, and well occupied.
But do what he would, he could not get Nancy out of his head; however he consoled himself with the belief, that time and persistence would be his staunch allies. And how he longed to see her! Sometimes this longing overpowered him, and he nearly drove Antonio crazy by his conflicting, and capricious orders. Twice, he arranged to go to Florence, twice, he changed his mind; at last, he positively took his departure. Was not Florence free to all the world?—Auntie Wolfe's attitude implied that she had it on lease,—and even if he only saw Nancy in a church, a picture gallery, or the street,—that would be something!
On his arrival in the city of flowers, he boldly drove direct to Mrs. De Wolfe's hotel; and here he had the mortification of learning, that "the Signora and the Signorina, had left that morning for Palermo!"