dinner; you must not ask me to-night; it is too much, too often. I am ashamed, quite, quite ashamed. I blush, I do indeed; you do it to save my little pot-au-feu; is it not so ? Well, you are too good, – then I will. The Colonel, he will be at home to-night? Yes? That is well too. I will sing him some little songs; he is so kind, the Colonel!" And with an eloquent grimace of gratitude which had the effect of screwing up her small eyes nearly to the point of extinction, Madame Facchino was gone.
After her loquacious visitor had departed, Lady Frances sat for a long time immersed in thought. She felt undeniably disturbed at these suggestions that had been thrown out rather than actually formulated. Her brother's marriage was an idea that had at one time been constantly before her mind, and had occupied her much. She had been desirous that he should marry, and had even, upon one occasion, taken in hand to supply him with a suitable wife, – a piece of manœuvring which, to any one acquainted with Lady Frances, it is needless to say came to nothing. As his father's aide-de-camp in chief, and the most popular man in or about the viceregal court, Captain Mowbray had had flirtations without end. How he had avoided matrimony it was rather difficult to say, except that the family irresolution had usually set in at the last moment to hinder him from making any explicit declarations.
For years back, although the flirtations had continued almost without cessation, none of them had appeared to tend towards matrimony, and he seemed to have as little serious intentions in that direction as his sister had herself. She did not like to think that any merely personal considerations mingled with the dislike which the idea of his now doing so certainly inspired her; and yet there was no denying that it would be a terrible break up, a most cruel wrenching and disjointing of all that made the happiness of her present life, if now, at the twenty-third hour, her brother was to take it into his head to marry. Why, after all, should he do so, having delayed so long? she asked herself with some asperity. But again, upon the other hand, why should he not? He was the best judge of what was or was not for his own happiness; and to a man of forty-nine, life as a personally romantic affair is naturally not finished and done with, as it is to a woman of fifty-two. Clearly the thing was conceivable; and if the Colonel wished to embark upon matrimony with a rich, a beautiful, and a well-born woman, and the rich, beautiful, and well-born woman was willing to abet him in the matter, it was hardly, Lady Frances felt, his sister's part to stand in the way.
Meantime that there was not much to be done by brooding over the matter was evident. The sun was shining, the water sparkling; Venice the Consoler was calling aloud with her myriad voices, "Come out! Come out! Come out!" Accordingly she ordered her sandolo to be at the door in ten minutes' time, and went into her own room to get ready. After all, the thing foreseen is not the thing that happens, she said to herself philosophically, and it was quite conceivable that she might be giving herself a great deal of very unnecessary trouble. When the number of hair-breadth escapes which the Colonel had already had in the matrimonial direction were taken into consideration, it seemed but a
