She felt flattered. “I’ve thought about it. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Leonardo had told her it would happen, and warned her to make use of it. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined. I’m not to study, I’m not to grow. “Not at all. "Added to which, she is neither so young as she was, nor, is her temper by any means improved—hem!" "Say no more on the subject, Sir," observed the stranger, gravely; "but let us turn to a more agreeable one—her daughter.
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