Jessie had not seen her old teacher for more than twelve months. Over tea and cake they talked of the past and present, of books and men. Then Jessie helped to wash up and put away the cherished relics. Miss Colbourne was bringing out some photographs, when she exclaimed—
“Oh, I want so much to see the views of Florence that Lena sent you!”
“Do you mean the illustrations of Romola?”
“Yes, please!”
Miss Colbourne walked across to the corner of the room that held her especial treasures. There stood a bookshelf brought from Bellagio by a friend, carved out of the olive wood with inlaid work. On the bottom shelf were arranged her Italian books, one or two rare editions among them. Above was a fine likeness of Dante and a plaster medallion of Savonarola, with some trifling objects picked up by friends on their wanderings. One of the most precious of these treasures was the dainty portfolio which she now brought forward and laid on the table.
Jessie took it up eagerly.
“Lena amused herself last winter,” said Miss Colbourne, “with collecting all the views she could find to illustrate Romola. She knows it is my favourite story.”
“And did she make the case too?”
“Yes, out of a piece of Italian silk. These are the Florentine lilies she has embroidered on the front.”
Miss Colbourne untied the ribbons—green, white, and blue—carefully, and showed the contents—the Via de Bardi, Santa Croce, the Convent of San Marco, and many another.