“Where were you going, that morning?”
“Oh, to the cathedral. Captain Jenness left me there, and I looked all through it till he came back from the consulate.”
“Left you there alone!” cried Staniford.
“Yes; I told him I should not feel lonely, and I should not stir out of it till he came back. I took one of those little pine chairs and sat down, when I got tired, and looked at the people coming to worship, and the strangers with their guide-books.”
“Did any of them look at you?”
“They stared a good deal. It seems to be the custom in Europe; but I told Captain Jenness I should probably have to go about by myself in Venice, as my aunt's an invalid, and I had better get used to it.”
She paused, and seemed to be referring the point to Staniford.
“Yes,—oh, yes,” he said.
“Captain Jenness said it was their way, over here,” she resumed; “but he guessed I had as much right in a church as anybody.”
“The captain's common sense is infallible,” answered Staniford. He was ashamed to know that the beautiful young girl was as improperly alone in church as she would have been in a café, and he began to hate the European world for the fact. It seemed better to him that the Aroostook should put about and sail back to Boston with her, as she was,—better that she should be going to her aunt in South Bradfield than to her aunt in Venice. “We shall soon be at our journey's end, now,” he said, after a while.