She had written to Uncle Ben, and to the Porters. To-morrow she must break
it to Aunt Pattie that she could not go to Vallombrosa, and must hurry back
to England. The girl's pure conscience was tortured already by the thought
of the excuses she would have to invent. And not a word, till Mr. Manisty
was safely started on his way to that function at the Vatican which he was
already grumbling over, which he would certainly shirk if he could. But,
thank Heaven, it was not possible for him to shirk it.
Again her eyes crossed those of Manisty. He was now discussing the strength
of parties in the recent Roman municipal elections with the American
Monsignore, talking with all his usual vehemence. Nevertheless, through it
all, it seemed to her, that she was watched, that in some continuous and
subtle way he held her in sight.
How cold and ungrateful he must have thought her the night before! To-day,
at breakfast, and in the train, he had hardly spoken to her.
Yet--mysteriously--Lucy felt herself threatened, hard pressed. Alice
Manisty's talk in that wild night haunted her ear. Her hand, cold and
tremulous, shook on her knee. Even the voice of the Ambassador startled
her.
After luncheon the Ambassador's guests fell into groups on the large shady
lawn of the Embassy garden.
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