“I accept both the invitation and the challenge,” replied Inez, bowing to her hostess, and, walking over to the low wall on which Helen had seated herself, she threw her arm affectionately about her neck. “But you must not embarrass me with such praise, or your husband will suffer a keen disappointment. To study Latin and Greek out of school-books is one thing; to meet face to face the personalities one has regarded as divinities—even reading their very handwriting—is another. It makes one wonder if she ever did know anything about them before.”
“That is exactly the spirit in which to approach the shrine, Miss Thayer!” cried Armstrong, enthusiastically. “Let us frame a new beatitude: ‘Blessed is she who appreciates the glories of antiquity, for she shall inherit the riches of the past.’”
The contrast of the two girls in the rich Italian morning light was so striking that Uncle Peabody paused in his approach after a successful attack upon the rose-bushes, touched Armstrong upon the shoulder, and nodded admiringly in their direction. They were separated a little from the others, and were busily engaged in a conversation of their own, in which no man hath a part, quite oblivious to the attention they attracted. Inez was standing, and, even though seated, Helen’s superb head reached quite to her companion’s shoulder, and the fair hair and complexion were clearly defined against the darker hue of the face and head bent down to meet her own. Her eyes, looking out into the distance even as she spoke, reflected the calm, satisfied contentment of the moment, while in the brown depths of the other’s one could read an ungratified ambition, an uncertainty not yet explained. Inez Thayer’s face was attractive, Helen’s was beautiful—that beauty which one feels belongs naturally to the person possessing it without the necessity of analysis.
Armstrong was evidently pleased with this comparison, as he had been with all previous ones. Italy, it seemed to him, formed just the background to set off to best advantage his wife’s personal attractions. Uncle Peabody smiled contentedly at the undisguised satisfaction which was so clearly indicated in the younger man’s face.
“If there had been any girls in Boston who looked like that when I was of sparking age,” he whispered to Armstrong, “I should certainly have married and settled down, as I ought to have done.”
“And allowed the world to perish of indigestion?” queried Armstrong, smiling.
“Scoffer! you do not deserve your good-fortune. Come, these roses are becoming all thorns. Young ladies, may I intrude upon your tête-à-tête long enough to present you with the trophies of my after-breakfast hunt?”
“A thousand apologies, Uncle,” cried Helen, taking the roses in her arms and burying her face in their fragrant petals. “Oh! how beautiful! And how idiotic ever to leave this Garden of Paradise and immure yourselves within that musty old library. Do you not repent?”
“I place the decision wholly in Miss Thayer’s hands,” said Armstrong; but he glanced at Inez with evident expectancy.