"The Grotta Azzurra to-morrow," he said gaily. "Perhaps you won't care to go again? My grave sister will make a very proper chaperon."
"Let us discuss that when to-morrow comes. Please to limit your moon-gazing to five minutes."
"At the utmost."
From the hotel garden opened a clear prospect towards Naples, which lay as a long track of lights beyond the expanse of deep blue. The coast was distinctly outlined against the far sky glowed intermittently the fire of Vesuvius. Above the trees of the garden shone white crags, unsubstantial, unearthly in the divine moonlight. There was no sound, yet to intense listening the air became full of sea-music. It was the night of Homer, the island-charm of the Odyssey.
"Answer me quickly, Cecily; we have only a few minutes, and I want to say a great deal. You have talked with Miriam?"
"Yes."
"You know that she repeats what Mallard has instructed her to say? Their one object now is to get me at a distance from you. You see how your aunt has changed—in appearance; her policy is to make me think that she will be my friend when I am away. I can speak with certainty after observing her for so long; in reality she is as firm against me as ever. Don't you notice, too, something strange in Miriam's behaviour?"
"She is not like herself."
"As unlike as could be. Mallard has influenced her strongly. Who knows what he told her?"
"Of you?