I held her hand in mine forgetful of what I was doing—amazed and admiring. A warm climate evidently suited Lady Olive, for I had never seen her look so charming as she did then in the airy muslin dress which floated gracefully around her slight figure, with a great bunch of light-coloured violets in the bosom of her gown, and with a decided tinge of colour and delighted sparkle in her eyes.
"Mr. Arbuthnot, am I a ghost that you look at me so without speaking? And you really must let go my hand, please."
I dropped it at once.
"Lady Olive," I exclaimed, "I never met any one whom I was so pleased to see! Whatever stroke of good fortune brought you to Sicily?"
"This," she laughed, laying her arm within that of a tall, bearded gentleman who stood wondering by her side. "Papa, this is Mr. Arbuthnot. Mr. Arbuthnot, my father, Lord Parkhurst."
He held out his hand cordially.
"Very glad to meet you, Mr. Arbuthnot. I have heard my daughter speak of you often."
We were blocking up the crowded promenade, and so we all three turned and walked leisurely along amongst the others. In a few minutes I had heard that Lord Parkhurst had brought his daughter and some other friends here from Rome in his yacht, and they were uncertain as to their stay. And in return I had told them that I was living with my father for a while close to Palermo.
Presently we came up with the remainder of their party, and Lord Parkhurst, leaving his daughter in my charge, joined them. A tall, good-humoured-looking boy strolled up to us, looking at me questioningly. Lady Olive introduced me to her brother, who came over to my side, and seemed disposed to stay with us.
"Now, we're not going to have you, Frank," Lady Olive declared, laughing. "Mr. Arbuthnot and I are old friends, and we have a lot to talk about. Go and take care of Cissy, do!"