A Room with a View

e adequate, and paid suitable tribute to the courtesy of Mr. George Emerson. She and Miss Lavish had had an adventure also. They had been stopped at the Dazio coming back, and the young

tled eyes at dinner-time, had again passed to himself the remark of "Too much Beethoven." But he only supposed that she was ready for an adventure, not that she had encountered it. This s

can ladies. Would Miss Bartlett and Miss Honeychurch join the party? Charlotte declined for herself; she had been there in the rain the previous afternoon. But she thought it an admirabl

rmth. "It's very kind of Mr. Beebe, but I am

h a deep flush of shame on the cheeks of Lucy. How abominably she behaved to Charlotte

at morning in strength, voice, and colour. Miss Bartlett insisted on leaning over the parapet to look at

ome of Charlotte to have st

r the Torre del Gallo party. I feared

ily on paper-but she had a feeling that Charlotte and her shopping were preferable to George Emerson and the summit of the Torre del Gallo. Si

ncy of fate, led her from the river to the Piazza Signoria. She could not have believed that stones, a Loggi

the morning newspaper in her hand. She hailed them briskly. The dreadful catastrophe

Miss Bartlett. "After your despair o

ou are to tell me absolutely everything that you saw from

s you would

manage without it, I t

, not of disapproval; it is suitab

acks are shameless creatures. I believe there's no s

lock collecting material. A good deal of it was unsuitable, but of course one always had to adapt. The two men had quarrelled over a five-franc note.

oine's name?" as

ss Lavish; her own

ope she

atum would n

at is t

plot. But it all came while the fountain

f course, this is the barest outline. There will be a deal of local colouring, descriptions of Florence and the neighbourhood, and I s

Miss Bartlett. "I am sure you

ave a Machiav

ct me, and whose lives I am going to paint so far as I can. For I repeat and I insist, and I have always held

concluded. Then the cousins wished success to her

ss Bartlett. "That last remark struck me as so par

to it. Her perceptions this morning were curiously keen, and

ficial would be shocked at her. We had a long talk yesterday. She believes in justice and truth and human interest. Sh

dly, "for I have been watching you and M

atting to M

ow con

me in a drive some day this week-a drive in the hills? We might go up by Fiesole and back by Settignano. There is a point on that road where we could get down and have an hour's ramble on the hillside. The view thence of Florence is most beautiful-

ekers, who had learnt to take a siesta after lunch, who took drives the pension tourists had never heard of, and saw by private influence galleries which were closed to them. Living in delicate seclusion, some in furnished flats, others

ink, and it was his avowed custom to select those of his migratory sheep who seemed worthy, and give them a few hours in the pastures

h Mr. Eager and Miss Bartlett-even if culminating in a residential tea-party-was no longer the greatest of them. She echoed th

d tumult one has great needs of the country and its message of purity. Andate

ass

ragedies. To one who loves the Florence of Dante and Savonarola there i

ch happened to be passing through as it happened. She can

ve you here?" asked th

the question. "Do not blame her, please, Mr. Eag

of but at the same time indicated that a few harrowing details would not be unacc

ctic

brought her home," said Miss Bartlett, ad

erience. I trust that neither of you was at al

e was this: the ghoulish fashion in which respectable people will ni

ountain, I believ

and you

er at th

strations which the gutter Press-This man is a public nuisance; he knows that I am

ly with youth. He had suddenly extended his book before Miss Bartlett and Mr. Eager,

f Fra Angelico's angels. She tore. A shrill cry rose from the vendor

I purchase-" be

sharply, and they all walked

h his threats and lamentations. He appealed to Lucy; would not she intercede? He was poor-he sheltered a family-the tax on bread. He waited, he gibber

other little frames, more severe, that stood on little easels, and were carven out of oak; a blotting book of vellum; a Dante of the same material; cheap mosaic brooches, which the maids, n

trangely enough, ceased to respect them. She doubted that Miss Lavish was a great artist. She doubted that Mr. Eager was as full of spirituality and culture as she had been led to suppose. T

anic of some sort himself when he was young; then he took to w

lking about

days!" sighed Miss Bartlett, fingering

n and for social advance-in these things there is something not wholly vile. There are some worki

list now?" Miss

made an advanta

th a voice full of meanin

he has

dare to claim acquaintance with me. He was in my London parish long ago. The other day in Santa Croce,

ried Lucy

!" hissed

e more than he had intended. Miss Bartlett was full of very natural curiosity. Lucy, though s

"that he is an irreligious

artlett, gently reproving

ent child at the time-I will exclude. God knows what his

lett, "it is something th

y no more." For the first time Lucy's rebellious thou

said ver

to say very little,"

ards him from the shop counter; her breast heaved quickly. He observed her brow, and

ow," he cried angrily. "Th

she r

rdered her. That day in Santa Croc

r. Eager-not a

to you. But I suppose it is only their p

ng her courage, and relapsing into the ol

aid Miss Bartlett, much discomfited by the unpl

For that man has murdered h

remark. A silence followed which might have been impressive, but was merely awkward.

he, shutting his eyes

is kindness, and spoke with ent

is our drive

and after a little exertion the co

rive we had arranged with Mr. Beebe without any fuss at all. Why should he invite us

ent over the Emersons, was launched by

ing with Mr. Eager is really the same as the one we are g

ow

has asked Eleanor L

mean anothe

r. She knows it herself. The truth must be

The well-known world had broken up, and there emerged Florence, a magic city where people thought and did the most extraordinary things. Murder, accusations of murder, a lady clinging to one man and being ru

ind of linen nose-bag which hung in chaste concealment round her neck. She had been told that this was the only safe way to carry money in Italy; it must only be broached within the walls of the English bank. As she groped she murmured: "Whether it is Mr. Beebe who forgot to tell Mr. Eager, or Mr. Eager who forgot when he told

the girl, with a gravity

Miss Bartlett, flushed from the st

hat I think, no

g you. Speak the word, and, as you know, I woul

," said Lucy, and pon

ew parlour-maid, who had watered the ferns with essence of lemonade, of the semi-detached cottages which were ruining Summer Street, and breaking the heart of Sir Harry Otway. She recalled the free, pleasant life of her home, where she was allowed to do everything,

s?" asked Mi

," said Lucy, giving the news that inter

can never have too much o

clever-my idea of what's really cl

e for

of places-the statues that relieve its severity suggest, not the innocence of childhood, nor the glorious bewilderment of youth, but the conscious achievements of maturity. Perseus and Judith, Hercules and Thusnelda,

to Rome to-morrow-straight to the Vyses' hotel? For I do know what I want.

with equal vi

ay, what would become of

aunt beauty of the square, laughin