“John Adams? Of course I recollect him. But what brought him here? I never heard him speak of Italy but to abuse it.”
“Oh!” the young man said, lowering his voice a little, and glancing at the Signora, who was near them, “he was brought by the same reason that brought him before, and
will keep him this winter—to wit, to woo.”
“To woo! To who?” retorted Mr. Vane.
“Not a whit of your to who!” replied the other with a laugh.
“What are you quoting Wordsworth for?” asked the Signora, overhearing the last part of their talk.
“Apropos of Mr. Adams, Signora,” Mr. Vane said, looking at her attentively.
She blushed and seemed annoyed, and, as if about to say something, finally turned away without speaking. It displeased her to have her name used in connection with that of any gentleman, and, besides, she did not mean to marry Mr. John Adams.
Here the door opened with a little breeze and three persons entered: a bright-eyed, beautiful young lady with a somewhat Jewish cast of face, who produced the impression that a bird had fluttered in, and, following her, a young girl of not more than sixteen, and an elderly woman, evidently a companion.
The Signora met the new-comer cordially.