Prudence was dressed as she had been in September, save that she now wore woollen stockings and coarse shoes, and tightly pinned round her spare person a large shawl. This shawl (she called it "my Highland shawl") had come with her from America; it was green in hue, plaided; she thought it still very handsome. Her step was not as light as it had been; rheumatism had crippled her sorely.
As she left the town and turned up the hill towards home, some one who had been waiting there joined her. "Is that you, Bepper? Were you coming up to the house?" she said.
"Yes," answered Beppa, showing her white teeth in a smile. "I'm bringing you some news, Denza."
"Well, what is it? I hope you're not going to leave your place?"
"I'm going to leave it, and that's my news: I'm going to be married."
"My! it's sudden, isn't it?" said Prudence, stopping.
"Giuseppe doesn't think it's sudden," said Beppa, laughing and tossing her head; "he thinks I've been ages making up my mind. Come on, Denza, do; it's so cold!"
"I don't know Giuseppe, do I?" said Prudence, trudging on again; "I don't remember the name."
"No; I've never brought him up to the house. But the boys know him—Paolo and Pasquale; Augusto, too. He's well off, Giuseppe is; he's got beautiful furniture. He's a first-rate mason, and gets good wages, so I sha'n't have to work any more—I mean go out to work as I do now."
"Bepper, do you like him?" said Prudence, stopping again. She took hold of the girl's wrist and held it tightly.