"I do not know," said Mr. Sumner, with a soft look in his eyes, "why you should not have your own private interpretation of the picture, dear 'Lady Betty';" and he smiled at Malcom as he used the latter's favorite appellation for Bettina.
Chapter XVIII.
In Venice.
From the land we went
As to a floating city—steering in,
And gliding up her streets as in a dream
By many a pile in more than eastern pride,
Of old the residence of merchant-kings:
The fronts of some, tho' time had shattered them,
Still gleaming with the richest hues of art,
As though the wealth within them had run o'er.
—Rogers.
SAN MARCO, VENICE.