Violante's blush here made her still more beautiful; and as the countess returned to Riccabocca she stole gently to Helen's side.
"Miss Digby, my ward," said Harley, pointedly, observing that his mother had neglected her duty of presenting Helen to the ladies. He then reseated himself, and conversed with Mrs. Riccabocca; but his bright quick eye glanced ever at the two girls. They were about the same age—and youth was all that, to the superficial eye, they seemed to have in common. A greater contrast could not well be conceived; and, what is strange, both gained by it. Violante's brilliant loveliness seemed yet more dazzling, and Helen's fair, gentle face yet more winning. Neither had mixed much with girls of their own age; each took to the other at first sight. Violante, as the less shy, began the conversation.
"You are his ward—Lord L'Estrange's?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps you came with him from Italy?"
"No, not exactly. But I have been in Italy for some years."
"Ah! you regret—nay, I am foolish—you return to your native land. But the skies in Italy are so blue—here it seems as if nature wanted colors."
"Lord L'Estrange says that you were very young when you left Italy; you remember it well. He, too, prefers Italy to England."
"He! Impossible!"
"Why impossible, fair skeptic?" cried Harley, interrupting himself in the midst of a speech to Jemima.