"Do I interrupt you sitting here? I will go at once if I am a nuisance."
"No, no," said Margaret, quickly, and with a wistful smile. "You do not interrupt me; pray stay!"
"I like to see you paint," said the girl, after a pause. "Somehow you remind me so much of mamma, though, of course, you are so much younger! I wish you knew mamma. Are you staying in Florence?"
"Yes," said Margaret, "I am staying at the hotel there," and she pointed with her brush.
"Really! Then you must be——" exclaimed the girl, quickly, but checking herself abruptly, and coloring with annoyance.
"I must be—what?" said Margaret, smiling at her embarrassment. "What were you going to say?"
"I was going to make one of my foolish speeches; and I'd better say it now I have gone so far, and get you to forgive me. I was going to say that you must be the young lady who lives so quietly at the hotel that they call her the 'Mysterious Lady.'"
Margaret smiled gently.
"Do they call me so?" she said; then she sighed, and went on with her work.
The girl sat and watched her for a moment, then she said: