“Very likely not. I was an Englishman. That might have been a sufficient distinction in her mind.”
“I hope she is not leading a wicked life,” said Eve, with a sigh. “She has a good face.”
“Do not let us trouble about her any more,” said Vansittart, looking earnestly up at the thoughtful face that was looking down at him. “She has almost brought dissension between us—for the first time.”
“Only almost. We could not be angry with each other long, could we, Jack? But you must own it was enough to take any wife by surprise. A beautiful Italian girl stretching out both her hands in eager greeting, almost throwing herself out of her boat into ours. Any wife caring very much for her husband would have felt as I did—a sudden pang of jealousy.”
“Any wife must be a foolish wife if she felt that pang, knowing herself beloved as you do.”
“Yes, I think that now you are honestly fond of me. Ah, how can I think otherwise when you have been so indulgent, so dear? Yet in the past you might have loved that dark-eyed girl. You never pretended I was your first love. And if you did care for her, do please be candid and tell me. I should be happier if I knew the worst. It could not matter much to me, you see, Jack, that you should have been fond of her—once. Dearest, dearest,” she repeated coaxingly, with her head bent down till her soft cheek leaned against his own, “tell me the worst.”
“Eve, how often must I protest that I never cared for this girl—that she was never anything to me but a friendless woman—friendless except for an aunt as poor and as ignorant as herself. She was never anything to me—never. Are you satisfied now? As far as Fiordelisa is concerned you know the worst.”
“I am satisfied. But if you did not care for her she cared for you. She could not have looked as she looked to-day—her whole face lighting up with rapture—if she had not loved you. Only love can smile like that. But I won’t tease you. The thought of her shall never again come between us.”
“So be it, Eve. We have had our much ado about nothing. We will give Signora Vivanti a holiday. Sophy will be with you to-morrow, and will want no end of amusement—exhibitions all day and a theatre every night, with an evening party afterwards. I know what country cousins—or country sisters are. Besides, it will be Sophy’s début, and she will expect to make an impression.”
“I hope she will not be too fine,” said Eve, remembering Sophy’s strivings to be smart under difficulties.