"Comment donc! He is very amiable, I am sure. But I thought you were tired and had had enough of him,—in short, that you did not want him."
"Ah!" ejaculated Leonora. She felt a little curious sense of pleasure, that was quite new to her, at the idea that her husband could have seriously thought she did not want Mr. Batiscombe.
"Naturally," added Marcantonio, "we ought to have asked him."
"I suppose so," said she, indifferently enough.
"I will call on him to-morrow, and we will have him to dinner, if it is agreeable to you, my dear."
"Oh yes—I do not mind at all," said Leonora. She was thinking about something, and did not speak again till they reached the house.
It was very frivolous, but she was really thinking about the curious expression of Mr. Batiscombe's eyes. She did not remember to have ever seen anything exactly like it. Besides, she had known him, more or less, for some time, and had never noticed it before. Perhaps it was the reflection from the water. But she dreamed that night that she saw those eyes very close to her, and the expression of them frightened her a little, but was not altogether disagreeable.
CHAPTER VII.
Julius Batiscombe was a restless man by day and night, after the trip to Castellamare. Marcantonio called upon him, but he was out, and then he received an invitation to dinner from Leonora, with a postscript about the unlucky baskets. He accepted the invitation. What else could he do?