AT HOME
A glorious day dawned upon Peschiera the next morning, and Mrs. Menotti hurried to the garden to enjoy it more fully. She took her accustomed seat on a rustic bench near the gate and looked about her with appreciative eyes. The oleander bushes were in full bloom beside her, behind her was the hedge to screen the garden from the street, and yonder were the loaded fig trees, while near by were the grapevines, dotted with clusters of ripe fruit.
"I realize," she said to herself, "that I shall never find so pretty a home again."
Just at this moment Rico opened the gate. He had not been able to let the beautiful morning pass without seeing his friends, as he was obliged to go to Riva a little later. He had not noticed Mrs. Menotti, and was going directly to the house when she called to him.
"I want you to sit here with me for a few moments, Rico, if you will. What a fine day this promises to be! I have just been wondering how long I may still be here to enjoy it."
"You alarm me, Mrs. Menotti. You are not thinking of going away?"
"I beg your pardon, Rico, for speaking so thoughtlessly; I should not have mentioned it." She changed the subject, and presently, recalling what Stineli had told her the previous evening about Rico's trouble, she began to wonder what it could be. She had been so absorbed in her own affairs at the time that she had given it but a moment's thought.
"Won't you tell me, Rico, why you came to Lake Garda? Stineli told me last evening that you used to long to come here. Were you ever here before?"
"Yes, when I was a child, but I was taken away."