“Why, this is witchcraft,” cried Jack; “you are perfectly correct.”
“The bouquet that was thrown to you from the window fell into the water.”
“But I regained it. I have it still,” cried he, more eagerly; “and yours was the hand that threw it?”
She nodded assent.
“How strange, is it not, that we should meet here?” He paused for a minute or two, and then said, “It was the Duchesse de Courcelles lived there at the time?”
“Yes, we passed the winter in that palace.”
“Miss Henderson was the companion of the young Princess,” said Lady Dorothea, who had just joined the group, and experienced no slight shock at observing the tone of easy familiarity in which the conversation was conducted. But Massingbred seemed wonderfully little moved by the intelligence, for, drawing his chair closer to Kate's, he led her to talk of Venice and its life, till, imperceptibly as it were, the discourse glided into Italian. What a dangerous freemasonry is the use of a foreign language, lifting the speakers out of the ordinary topics, and leading them away to distant scenes and impressions, which, constituting a little world apart, give a degree of confidential feeling to intercourse. Massingbred would willingly have lent himself to the full enjoyment of this illusion; but Kate, with quicker tact, saw all the difficulties and embarrassment it would occasion, and under pretext of searching for some music, escaped at once from the spot.
“How I envy you, dear girl!” said Mary, following her, and passing her arm affectionately around her. “What a happiness must it be to possess such gifts as yours, which, even in their careless exercise, are so graceful. Tell me frankly, is it too late for me to try—”
“You overrate me as much as you disparage yourself,” said Kate, mildly; “but if you really will accept me, I will teach you the little that I know, but, in return, will you make me your friend?”
Mary pressed the other's hand warmly within her own.