herself, was making Grace old before her time. By-and-by there came a tribe of little ones, which Grace could not refuse, for the pay, though slender, helped out the housekeeping. The mothers wanted them kept good all the morning and taught English. Grace liked these tinies better than the older children, who must be kept more severely. Much to Sibyl's disappointment, Grace had refused to go any more to the bandplaying; she did not like meeting those Englishmen, and she did not know they lodged above her, Sibyl never having told her. Curiously enough, as Grace became quieter and sadder, Sibyl's spirits rose higher. Since she had been to the daily lessons she seemed happier, and declared that it was much more amusing than to sit moping at home. Her eyes became brighter and prettier, the colour came back to her cheeks, so that sometimes in fun Grace told her she was prettier than any German in Unterberg. "Do you think so, Gracie?" Sibyl answered, quite earnestly. "Ab, if things had been different I might have married some Englishman, and—” She burst into tears, much to Grace's astonishment. "Do you want to leave me, Sibyl?" asked Grace, tenderly stroking her hair. "We are all in all to each other, are not we? What matters anything else?" "Of course, Gracie; I was only stupid," and she quickly dried her eyes, and prepared to start off to her morning work. Grace pondered a little after her departure as to what could be the matter; then, putting away the thought, she thought that, of course, Sibyl must feel sad sometimes, in spite of her natural high spirits; it is only natural. The little ones trooped in at nine o'clock; then there was no more time for meditation, but plenty to attend to. "Where is Anna Steinwey ?" she asked of the others. "She was not ready, so we left her to come alone, it is so near," said the eldest. Grace thought no more about the absent one and began her teaching, but the youngest of the four cried when she was asked a question; then it turned out that she had a very grievous "kopfweh." "Poor little Minna, why didn't you say so instead of crying?" said Grace, tenderly, as she took up the tiny child on her lap and laid the fair head against her bosom, putting her cool hand on the hot forehead. The little girl was comforted, and Grace went on with the class round her, keeping Minna on her lap. The hum of voices soothed the little one, and very soon she fell fast asleep. "Speak softly, children," said Grace, looking down on the slumbering little one ; "do not wake her, and she will soon be well." At that moment there was a tap at the door, and Grace said, "Come in." Then there entered a gentleman, leading the missing Anna by the hand. Grace was much astonished as she glanced quickly at the intruder and recognised the acquaintance of the garden. Austin Gordon felt as if he were very much in the way and too tall to stand among so many tiny morsels of humanity, so he apologised humbly to Grace as she said: "I am sorry I cannot get up to receive you, the little girl is asleep; she was not well." "It is I who should apologise, Miss Evans," he said, humbly; "but I was at the ornamental water in the gardens near here, and I found this young lady in great despair; she had dropped her knapsack and all the precious lesson-books into the water, and they were lying right at the bottom." Anna was still sobbing quietly over this terrible misfortune. "I only looked in one little bit to try and see the fishes," she said, "andand "And Miss Anna was afraid to come on to you, so there she stayed sobbing till I told her I would come back with her and beg her forgiveness. I am sure I shall not ask in vain." Austin all this while had been looking at that picture before him, feeling that he should always love the little sinner, Anna, who had given him the opportunity of seeing Miss Evans with the child on her lap, bending her sweet face over it. Nor had Anna been a made-up excuse; the truant had been dreadfully frightened, fearing to go home or to go to her class. "I am afraid you were playing, Anna; but the others should have waited for her. Is there no means of fishing out the lost treasures?" asked Grace, speaking now in English, and trying to hide a smile. "Yes," said Austin, also smiling; "I waded in for them, but I have left them to be dried by the fire of the good woman who lives below, and who has a sym pathy with youthful sinners. Fräu Hanson told me to come and speak to you myself when she opened the door." Austin felt he had done his mission, but havingquite unbidden-taken a chair, he could not hurry away; he thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than Grace. If he had been an artist he could have desired no better model. Grace only spoke in soft tones, but to-day she was not very shy; with these children all round her she felt well protected. How ever, she did just wonder why the stranger sat down. "I promise Anna shall not be too severely scolded," said Grace, again smiling; "she is a new-comer, and has not yet found out that I cannot scold very well." "I cannot imagine you being very severe, Miss Evans. Ah, there is Gretchen. Your friend has been complaining that you are so studious, Gretchen, that we never see you." Gretchen, though looking very demure, had been staring at the other Mr. Jones, hoping he would recognise her. Seeing Grace looked surprised, Austin explained: "We live with the Professor, Miss Evans, so we knew Miss Gretchen before you came; but since then she can no longer be found running up and downstairs." "You live above!" said Grace, surprised. "I did not know; but I go out so seldom; we know scarcely any one here." "The Professor is very anxious to make your acquaintance," continued Austin. "He wishes to find out whether English ladies can use their brains; he is all thought." "I think Frau Hanson knows the Professor a little," said Grace, as if wishing to ignore all acquaintances for herself. Then followed a pause, which said plainly: wish to know him, and who, moreover, would certainly not trouble her head about a strange Englishman, who might, for all she knew, be also a stray adventurer. The next instant Austin laughed at himself. He whom Sidney regarded as the embodiment of cautious wisdom to be thus suddenly smitten with a pretty face-a face which recurred to him constantlyand moreover to believe, as he half believed now, that he had done that most unwise and unheard of thing, and fallen in love at first sight. This was indeed a downfall of his self-esteem. What would his mother say if she knew it? What would the sensible Frances or fastidious Minnie think of him? "She may be poor or proud, or both, but she is good and beautiful," thought Austin, annoyed, in spite of himself; "the only face I have ever cared to think of twice, or to" He stopped. How could he be so bold, so utterly reckless of consequences to himself? After all he was nothing to her; how should he be? About one thing Austin was determined-no hint of his feelings should be seen; never by look or word would he betray the secret to Sidney. Nevertheless, this did not prevent him from wishing all the more to see her again. During the reading the mentor was somewhat distrait, and made many mistakes, so that the Professor cleared his throat and made several exclamations of surprise. "Herman and Dorothea" was almost too descriptive, and Austin was not sorry when the Professorin burst into the room. "It is the Professor's fête day on Thursday," said the good lady, looking at her husband. "What cake wilt thou have, Ludwig, on thy natal day?" There was such a curious incongruity in-between the shrivelled up, learned Professor and a birthday cake that the young men smiled. "Are you going?" So Austin was forced to rise, apologise again for his trusion, and then depart. He could not shake hands, and Grace still remained seated, and never offered him hers; but she bowed and smiled very sweetly, as she said: "You were very kind to bring back Anna. Thank you very much." Austin felt still more how very deserving of praise Anna was for letting her books fall into the pond. If only she could do so every day! Then, as he ascended his own flight of stairs, he called himself a fool for admiring a girl he knew nothing about, who was evidently poor and proud, and did not The Professor seemed, however, to find it quite natural, and no wonder, since he had been asked the same question ever since his honeymoon days; indeed it was the only bit of external sentiment ever exchanged between the couple. what say you? The young Herren would like to see good society." "That means, Anna, the society of Unterberg; I fear that is of no great mental value. They are poor creatures, and possess few brains here-very few." "But what about your own neighbours in the house?" suggested Austin, as calmly as usual, for lovers are deceitful. "Our little Gretchen, with the long plait," put in Sidney. "Will you not allow, Professor, that out of the mouth of babes truth and sense comes forth? Unintentionally, of course." "By the way, that is a good idea," said the Fräu; "we will ask Fräu Hanson to come and taste your cake, and to bring Gretchen. She is a good woman, and never opens her mouth." "Which shows her sense. Yes, certainly, let us ask Fräu Hanson, and, by the way, we must beg her to bring these English ladies that will please our friends. They were very gracious and pretty when we saw them the other Sunday," said the Professor, smiling, looking at Austin. Sidney was, of course, anxious to know when the mentor had seen the ladies, and said he had been very close not to have mentioned the fact before. "You did not wait for my news," answered Austin, smiling, "but you at once told me I had missed seeing your friends, so I did not wish to dispute the honour with you." "My dear mentor, female charms have no allurements for you. You may think yourself fortunate that I am not at this moment raving about that golden hair or writing sonnets to her eyebrows." "I do," said Gordon. "You are bad enough in your calm moments-but in love- "" "Well, I promise to be discreet; besides, a little English governess won't be the girl fit for the position that S. J. means to occupy, so have no fears." Though spoken in fun, the words were true enough, and Sidney had no intention of making love to a penniless girl who had not even a title to make up for poverty. As to her beauty that was undeniable, but pretty girls are not very uncommon. Austin felt disagreeably conscious that in this case it was Sidney who was acting as mentor, and that they were reversing their functions. Happily the Professorin was suddenly smitten with the wish to exhibit her cake to the English ladies; she was sure they would not be able to tell her how the wonder was made, and they would be sure to ask her for the recipe, as did all her German acquaintances. Not that she ever told them all the secret; but she always left out one or more special ingredients. It would never do for Ludwig's birthday cake to become common property at Unterberg. The secret had come from the Royal kitchen, and having passed through less elevated households, had at last reached the Fräu Professorin. After much thought and careful preparation, the Professorin wrote the note in very scratchy writing, with as many flourishes as she could conveniently add. Would the much-honoured Fräu Hanson favour them with her presence in order to taste the Professor's birthday cake and delight them with her cheerful conversation? Also Gretchen was to be brought if the Frän Hanson permitted it, and would she also kindly enquire whether the two young English ladies would deign to accompany her to such very poor entertainment as dining with her could afford? When finished, the note was despatched downstairs, and Austin was curiously impatient to hear the answer. It was Tuesday now, so that perhaps in two days he should see her again. He would scarcely have been pleased had he heard how the invitation was received by Grace. Sibyl was delighted when Fräu Hanson handed the letter to her, saying that the Professor was rather a bear, but harmless, and his wife made good cakes. "Please, Grace, do say yes," said Sibyl, sitting down at her sister's feet and looking up in her face. "I declare I shall go without you if you do not. Why should we not enjoy ourselves a little ?" "But, suppose this visit leads to others?" said Grace, irresolutely. "Suppose we should get intimate with "We might just as well become nuns at once. I believe you are thinking of those Englishmen, Grace, and you don't want to know them." That was true enough. Grace wanted to know no one. New acquaintances might lead to harm. "What harm could happen to us? Just think, Grace, we shall go with Fräu Hanson, and there is the old lady besides." "You know I want to go if you would like it, Sibyl, only. "Only what?" Suppose harm came of it?" "What harm? Do you think I mean | painfully slow; and there was little honour to run away with Mr. Jones?" said Sibyl, in victory under such conditions. What half angrily and half in fun. had interested me most, in fact, in these eccentric races was the conduct of a couple of English betting men, who had the audacity to tempt fortune, handicapped by a complete ignorance of Italian. They offered the odds in English, and so their clientèle was chiefly confined to certain sprigs of the nobility who had learnt enough English from their tutors for sporting purposes. "Oh, no, dear; of course not. That never entered my head. Well, then, let us go-it is my foolishness, but I shrink from seeing any English people. I wish Nan were here, she could tell us what was right. There! I won't say any more about it, Sibyl," and Grace kissed the pretty brow below her, and accepted the invitation, A DEAD CITY OF ETRURIA, ONE April morning I astonished my Roman landlady by getting up at half-past seven o'clock-a ridiculously early hour for the visitor-and declaring my intention to walk to Veii. She went away to mass with surprise in her face and in the motion of her shoulders. She had never yet entertained a stranger who had proposed to himself quite such an absurd feat of energy. For Veii is eleven good miles from Rome, and the old Etruscan city, or what is left of it, covers an area which may be five or six miles in circumference. The goats from the Campagna were in the streets of Rome as I left the house and made my way to the Porta del Popolo, whence I was to follow the Via Cassia almost to my goal. It was cold to a marvel, considering that it was Italy. The brisk tinkling of the bells of the goats, as one by one they were relieved of their milk by householder after householder, seemed to argue that the herd were taking violent exercise to keep themselves warm. The church bells added to the music of the goats. It was a festa-the saint in whose honour it was held being too obscure for Protestant ears, but not without regard in the hearts of the Campagna peasantry, whom I met outside the Popolo Gate entering the city in gala dress. The other day I had traversed this same road for a couple of miles to the Roman racecourse by the Tiber. The sport had been indifferent, the mud of the Tiberine meadows infamous, but the determination of the Romans to enjoy themselves outweighed all obstacles; nor was it at all abated by a smart fasillade of snow and hail showers at quick intervals. As for the horses, they were clearly out of humour with the work that was exacted of them. They almost stuck fast in the course they were required to cover. The pace was slow The wind blew keen from the snow of the Apennines when I had left Rome well behind me, and was breasting the first steep ascent of the many undulations which hereabouts compose the Campagna. It was a rough, forbidding day, with clouds over Soracte and the Alban Hills; but yet just the day to appreciate the Campagna aright. Of ruins on this side of Rome there are not many; but such as they were, they formed a romantic Ælian harp for the breeze to moan against. The refrain, "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity," seemed to be whistled in my ears with growing intensity as I left the big dome of Saint Peter's farther and farther behind. Not that the Campagna-at least in the immediate vicinity of Rome-need be so melancholy a district. The high road for a couple of miles is avenued by villa properties, each within its own compact little domain, and each approached by a path through the vines which stand beneath the high iron gate and the walls which keep it sequestered from common observation. But supposing four out of every five of the villas are to let. That makes the picture perfectly dolorous. And in effect that was the case; or if not wholly unoccupied, these dainty little bijou residences were used solely as a place of "villegiatura" for a month or two in the year. Not even the glow of the new green of the vines or the flush of the red anemones and blue hyacinths among the grass of the neglected meadows could make these empty houses cheerful. The wind whispered of devastating malaria as well as of the vanity which compassed them round about. But the last of the villas being left in the rear, I found myself at length in the Campagna unadulterated. The spacious, irregular plain stretched for a dozen miles to the east without a tree, without even a hedge, and apparently without one house or shepherd's hut to relieve its nudity. To be sure it is not quite so forlorn as it appears to be; but one is justified in per petuating general impressions, and this way. In places it was severed, but anon it barrenness is what most holds the eye reappeared and inspired new thoughts of and affects the mind. The flocks and the feet which have trodden it. For half herds which pick their living from the an hour at a time I had the horizon to plain are of course inhabitants of a kind, myself. This on the great north high and give a certain animation to the scene. road leading to the capital of Italy! No But think for a moment how odd it would doubt the railway is responsible for the be if a girdle of country like this were to destitution of the Via Cassia. Still, it divide London from the outer world; if reflects the nature of the land. through Nature were to take a great scythe and which it percolates. Were there thriving mow all the trees and habitations from the villages here and there all the way to face of the earth in a circular band several Bracciano, and so on to Viterbo, there miles broad, touching Hampstead and would be no lack of cheerful peasant traffic Hackney in the north, Peckham and between village and village, or all the Clapham in the south, Stratford in the villages and the capital. But it is a dead east, and Hammersmith in the west country, which will need little short of a There are times when one has a sensation miracle to resuscitate it. We have nothing in Rome of living in a fortified city under like it-and we may rejoice that it is so. a siege, the suburbs of which have been ravaged only the other day by a besieging force. At the fourth milestone, however, I had become used to my surroundings. A glance of sunshine, too, had broken from the clouds to brighten the daisies of the Campagna, and to take the chill off the boisterous gale which continued to blow in my face. By the fifth milestone I saw Rome once more, the dome of Saint Peter's being like an epitome of it. Here, on a pedestal of bricks, there stands hoisted by the roadside an empty sarcophagus with sculptures in relief and an inscription. It has been called the tomb of Nero, a legend, like many other Roman legends, wholly incredible. Yet it does not matter whether the dust of Nero or of some more reputable Roman once rested here; it is enough that it is a tomb. There is a single white house in the neighbourhood, else the tomb would domineer the landscape. At last the inn of La Storta comes in sight. I have never been here before, but instinct tells me afar off that so massive an assemblage of dark walls and roofs cannot be aught except the inn. In the olden days this was the beginning of the last stage to Rome. Coaches and post-chaises here had hearty rendezvous, and no doubt it was customary to look to the priming of pistols in readiness for the final and most dangerous part of the road. Some boys, with asses laden with brushwood, confirmed my belief. They were crooning a song as eerie as that of the wind itself when I stopped them. And, tailing after them, was a miserable pony with red sores spread upon its back, and all the hair flogged off its hindquarters by the friction of whips and staves. These lads, too, were attended by a dog, and this dog also resented my presence upon the high road. A jug of wine in the old inn was welcome refreshment after my two hours' walk. The landlord was glad of the chance of a gossip. There was not a soul to be seen or heard except himself; and he sat on the solid bench in the lowbrowed room and plied me with questions of divers kinds. But remembering the heavy task yet before me, I could not tarry more than a few minutes, though I stayed long enough to assure him that his wine merited more patronage than it was likely to receive. I sat awhile on this empty marble coffin and whistled with the wind. A shepherd passed along with a flock of horned sheep following at his heels, and a big white dog that growled at my pendent legs. The shepherd was cloaked to the nose in his cloak, and slouched by with bent head. His sheep made a vile dust, which the wind carried against me in a choking cloud. I could see the daisies of the dun plain cowering before the successive blasts, and I listened to a fresh air which this A mile past La Storta I turned by a lane same stout agent played upon an interstice to the right, and descended tortuously toof the coffin which served me as a seat. wards a depression in the Campagna. Soon From the fifth milestone to the eighth there was a break in the red banks which the road was much the same. The old served as walls to the road, and below I basaltic pavement did not run con- could see a castellated pile of buildings, tinuously in the middle of the white high- with a river-bed at its base, and beyond a |