"Did I ignore you?" she replied in a conciliatory tone; and then with a pensive, retrospective air she added. "Five months! And is it so long since we left England? It was too good of you to leave your university——"
"Where I was earning quite a reputation," I murmured. It would have puzzled me to say for what.
"—In order to escort me through Europe. I am sorry for my neglect of you this morning."
The look that came into Daphne's eyes was so pretty, wistful, pleading, that I, who had really no cause of complaint against her, began to feel what a hard-hearted tyrant Love sometimes makes of his votaries. I was just wondering whether she would object were I to seal our little concordat with a kiss, when my uncle and Angelo chanced to look back, so I could but give her arm a significant pressure in token of my magnanimous resolution to forgive her.
Near the foot of the mountain we came upon a beautiful pool, its waters being supplied by a slender streamlet that wound down the mountain-side almost in the line of our walk. Rude stonework bordered with moss ran all round the fountain, imparting to it a circular shape. On one side arose a steep rock containing a tall rectangular niche, which had been hewn for the reception of an image, though at present it was apparently devoid of any such ornament.
"Please, Mr. Willard," said Daphne, dropping a mock courtesy, "have I your permission to ask Mr. Vasari what place this is?"
"Mr. Vasari," I called out, "Miss Leslie would like to know the name of this spring."
"This," replied the artist, coming to at once, "is the haunted well of Rivoli."
"Why do they call it haunted?" said Daphne.
"From certain mysterious things that have happened."