The days that followed were like a happy dream. Every morning brought Lily a letter from Angus Stuart. In the sunshine of his new-found happiness the ice of the young Scotsman’s reserve broke down, and his long letters filled her with delight, though she sometimes found it impossible to read the new one right through till she had locked herself in her room at night—for, somehow, she was never alone!
Beppo was her shadow—so much so that one day, to her annoyance, Cristina observed with a smile: “I once read a book when I was a young girl, Mademoiselle. It was called ‘The Inseparables.’ You and the young Count remind me of the title of that book.”
On the fifth morning of Beppo’s visit Lily made up her mind to go off to the Convalescent Home, and she actually did slip away before the young man was down. But she had only been at the Home an hour when she was told that a gentleman wished to see her, and in the hall she found Beppo smiling, and a little apologetic.
“It is such a lonely walk,” he explained, “that mamma thought I had better come and fetch you.”
She made him wait a full half-hour while she finished the letters on which she was engaged, and then on the way back to La Solitude she rebuked him gently:
“You know, whatever Aunt Cosy may do, that in England girls always go about by themselves. It’s absurd to say that it isn’t safe here—it’s absolutely safe! I’ve never met a man, woman or child who looked as if they would harm a fly! Before you came to La Solitude I constantly went down to Monte Carlo by myself, and more than once I came back during that strange change that takes place each afternoon, and which only seems to happen here—I mean when it’s daylight one moment and night the next——”
“You will have plenty of time for your good works when I’ve gone back to Rome,” said Beppo firmly. He added, after a moment’s pause: “You would not deprive me of one minute of your company if you knew how much it meant to me.”
He said these words very simply and sincerely, without garnishing them with any absurd compliments. And again Lily felt touched. What an odd, queer being this man striding along by her side on the lonely hillside was! So boyish in some of his ways, so mature in others. Such a man of the world, and yet now and again so very simple.
During those days of Lily’s life Monte Carlo might have been a hundred miles from La Solitude. Beppo did not seem ever to want to go into the town; he was quite happy at the Golf Club, or taking Lily for drives in the funny ramshackle little motor which he had hired for a week.
Two or three times Aunt Cosy had suggested that they should go down and have lunch or dinner in one of the big restaurants, but Beppo had refused.