The following day was an eventful one. First of all, as if in response to Uncle Peabody’s exhortation, the chauffeur appeared. Mr. Cartwright departed for the city soon after breakfast, to be gone all day, and by the time the heat of the afternoon had subsided De Peyster drove up in state to enforce the promise Inez had given him the afternoon before. After watching them drive away, Helen slipped her hand through her husband’s arm and gently drew him with her into the garden. They walked in silence, Helen’s head resting against his shoulder, until they reached her favorite vantage-spot, when she paused and looked smilingly into his face.
“Jack dear,” she said, quietly, “do you realize that this is almost the first time we have really been by ourselves since we took that walk to Fiesole?”
“But at least you have had an opportunity to show your villa to your friends!”
“Don’t joke, Jack—I am not in the mood for it this afternoon. I don’t know why, but I have been feeling very serious these last few days. Tell me, dear—are you perfectly happy?”
Armstrong looked surprised. “Why, yes—perfectly happy. What a curious notion!”
“I know it is, but humor me just this once. Are you as fond of me now as you were that day at Fiesole?”
“You silly child!” Jack drew her to him and kissed her. “Whatever has possessed you to-day?”
“I don’t know, but you see I measure everything by that day at Fiesole. I believe it was the happiest day I ever spent. Since then, somehow, I have felt that we were not so near together. Of course, you have been away a good deal at the library and looking up things with Inez, which was just what I wanted you to do; and then we have had a good many here to entertain, which was also what I wanted; but I can’t help feeling that you have not found here at home just what you should have found to make you perfectly happy. Tell me, dear, have I been to blame?”
Armstrong paused as if weighing something heavily in his mind. “Perhaps I have no right to go on with this work,” he remarked, at length, “but the only way to stop it would be to leave Florence.”
“You know I don’t mean that, Jack.”