Mechanically Cecily turned and walked at his side. They passed through the gate and up the steps, to that terrace which gives upon the beautiful avenue of ilexes leading to a further flight of moss-grown steps.
The avenue was deserted. The rays of sunshine that pierced its roof fell in tiny flecks upon the path. But for these specks of brightness, the alley was a tunnel of cool green gloom. They entered it in silence.
“Mrs. Summers said you were in Florence,” began Mayne, at last.
“Yes, we’ve only been here a week. I haven’t written to Rose since we left.”
He looked down at her. She was in white, as he liked best to see her. All the long months she had been away, he remembered, he had always pictured her in white. Her arm brushed his sleeve as they walked, and he trembled from head to foot.
“Cecily,” he said, suddenly, and his voice trembled also, “what are you going to do?”
She was silent, and he saw the color go from her face. They had reached the foot of the crumbling steps by this time. Cecily noticed minutely the ferns—hart’s-tongue and maiden-hair—that sprang in chink and crevice, and, as she passed it, looked curiously at the pattern of spotted white lichen with which each broken step was adorned. Now they had emerged from the gloom of the roof of trees, into the blinding sunshine in which the little sham-classic temple at the top was bathed. There was no one in the walled-in enclosure. Cecily moved to the side overlooking the Borghese Gardens, and sat down on the rough, sun-warmed wall.
Mayne stood behind her. “Cecily,” he urged once more, “you mustn’t keep me in suspense much longer.” There was a dangerous note in his voice.
She turned to him. “Oh, Dick!” she said in a voice that was almost a cry; “I am so worried. If only I knew what to do!”
He stooped swiftly, and gathering her up in his arms, held her close, while he kissed first her lips, then her throat, with an intensity of passion which thrilled and communicated itself to her. When at last he let her go, she too was trembling. After all, it was sweet to be loved like this. She felt awakening in her the woman’s pride and triumph in her power to rouse strong emotion in a man. And Dick loved her in all the other ways, too. She could rely on him. He would never fail her.