“Forgive me! but you do not, cannot know the train of overpowering memories your sudden appearance called up; indeed I am glad again to look upon the face of an old friend, since you accord me the privilege of so considering you—glad as a two years’ exile from all who ever knew or cared for him can make a man.”
“Is it so long since you quitted England?” inquired Laura.
“It is,” was the reply. Lewis paused, and then continued: “I left England under circumstances which caused me great mental suffering—suffering which time and a complete change of scene could alone render less bitter. I travelled for five months, passing through Greece and visiting Constantinople; at the expiration of that period I wandered hither, my vigour of mind and body in great measure restored. The wonders of this country revived my enthusiasm for art; this, and the necessity of following some profession, led me to the idea of adopting the career of a painter. For a year I worked ten hours daily in the studio of Signore B—elli, at the end of that period I quitted him and commenced painting on my own account; hitherto my success has surpassed my most sanguine expectations, so that I trust I have at last hit upon my true vocation.”
“I am so delighted to hear it!” exclaimed Laura warmly; “but how is it we have seen nothing of you before—did you not hear of our arrival? we have been here more than a month!”
Lewis coloured, bit his lip, and then replied, “My recollections of England were so painful that I resolved, partly for that reason, partly that I might keep my mind free from any anxieties which could interfere with my devoting my faculties fully and entirely to my new profession, to avoid the society of the few English who were likely to come in my way; indeed, my only associates have been the young artists with whom I became acquainted in the studio of B—elli, and the family of the worthy old man who acts as my assistant.”
“But you will make us exceptions to the rule?” pleaded Laura; “Charles will be really hurt if you refuse to come to us.” Lewis paused, his impulse was to refuse, but there was a genuine kindness in Laura’s manner which vouched for her sincerity; had she been a man he would have adhered to his resolution, but it was not easy to say no to Laura.
“Forgive my apparent churlishness,” he began, “but may I ask whether you have any of—of your English friends staying with you?”
“Not at present; Charles and I are leading a quiet, humdrum Darby and Joan life, which need not alarm even your hermit-like habits. You must promise to dine with us to-morrow at six.”
“You are most good-natured to humour what must appear to you my absurd caprices,” replied Lewis, touched by her thoughtful kindness.
“But you will come?” she said, holding out her hand to him.