that seems the only route open, and I shall probably return home by the Riviera if I am prevented from getting northwards."

"I think you will come to Rome," said the little lady; "and if you do, ask for me at Pension B. All the English know it."

"I will remember," said I, "if I go; but I have no intention of going. The seven hills have no attraction for me."

Meanwhile I must see Bologna since I was there willy nilly. Summer had come again, it seemed, and I sought the grateful shade of the arcades, where barbers shaved their customers, coopers hammered their casks, women cooked macaroni, and men fried fish, vending it with shrill cries. Tomatoes, grapes, and golden pears piled in heaps gave colour to the shade, and light was flashed back from the sparkles of the fountain that foamed and splashed in the centre of the Piazza. Such was my first impression of the town, and it remains clear on my retina. But in the background I remember there was a dull University and the chairs of Professors; a gallery of pictures, and some cross-lines and confused arches belonging to the churches and leaning towers mentioned in the guide-book.

The next morning saw me at the railway-station again, watching with amused interest the embraces of two brother officers in blue uniform. The farewell kisses were given with effusion; arms were thrown round manly necks; swords clanked on the stony platform; spurs glittered in the early rays of the sun. “Addio, addio!” cried they, and wiped tears from their eyes with parti-coloured pocket-handkerchiefs as the train slipped out of a tunnel and swept on through meadow and vineyard, which by and by gave place to valleys and rounded hills.

I

heard the sound of running brooks, and I saw little maidens with brightcoloured petticoats and golden earrings twirling their distaffs as they herded a few sheep or a lean cow. Very pretty, very pleasant was this rapid change of scene, this journey so full of incident and adventure; but I felt rather like a shuttle-cock tossed hither and thither by no will of my own.

That same afternoon I was sitting in the coffee-room of the Hôtel de l'Europe at Florence reading a telegram which had just arrived. My friend could not get out of Davos even yet: "Go on to Rome," it said; we will meet there shortly." I suppose I looked rather forlorn, as well I might, for a sweet-faced old lady with silver hair, coming in to the room to fetch a newspaper, stopped to speak to me, and after a little chat invited me to come to her sitting-room in an hour's time, where she promised I should. find a real English cup of tea; "And we can then discuss your plans," she added kindly.

A bath and a change of dress freshened me, and I tapped at the door of No. 81 at the appointed time. A respectable English maid was cutting bread and butter; a courier of most genteel appearance was folding up maps; and the old lady with the snowy curls was inviting me to sit on the sofa beside her, as I entered. How like home it all seemed! "You must not go to Rome alone," said she, and laughed at my strange tale of adventure. "If you

can wait here till Monday, you shall travel with me. To be alone in a land of which you cannot speak the language is neither pleasant nor proper for a lady. Come with me to Rome, and my courier shall look after you and your boxes. My maid shall find us cups of tea, and my son shall entertain us en route. You will be sure to

like Rome when you get there. Come, what do you say to my plan?"

What could I say? If there was no road open to me but the road to Rome, then to Rome I must go. So I said "Yes," and "Thank you," as I drank my second cup of tea.

"I do not dine at the table d'hôte," said the old lady, "so you will not see me again to-night. To-morrow I shall be out all day; but on Sunday afternoon, if you will find your way here at the same hour, we will make our final arrangements for starting."

So I ate my dinner that night with a tranquil mind, in company with various specimens of travelling humanity all more or less entertaining, of whom I retain but a vague remembrance, save of one, who told me she always carried about her parrot with her for the sake of its society, and she strongly advised me to get a bird of

some

"A

sort for a companion. dog," she remarked, "makes itself a nuisance, and you must pay for it wherever you go. But a parrot is no expense, for I carry it in my hand, and its cage hangs in my bedroom. I have taken mine all over the world. Last winter I was in Japan, the year before in New Zealand; and when I come back to London in May, Polly's cage hangs in my pretty flat in Victoria Street for the season.'

It was with this lady I went the next afternoon to Fiesole, having spent the morning among the galleries. She was a most amusing companion, and I enjoyed myself extremely in her society. Whether the parrot would have accompanied her in this drive had I not been there, I know not. As it was she left him in his cage hanging outside the window of her room on the first floor, from whence he swore at her in Dutch just as we were stepping into the carriage at the hall-door, and the porter let her guide

book fall into the mud in consequence of the start it gave him. What a charming drive it was! There was not a care on my shoulders, since my journey on Monday was all planned for me without a thought or trouble on my part. To-day I was drinking in the sights and sounds of a wholly new city; and to-morrow I should go to church and say my prayers in the company of my own country-people, adding a special thanksgiving, not printed in the book of Common Prayer, for the special Providence haunting my steps.

But what was the name of my angel with the silver hair? No one had seen her but me, I discovered; no one knew her name. I could not possibly travel with any one whom I did not know how to address. She had asked my name; would it have been impertinent had I returned the question? But since that opportunity was lost, I stopped the hall-porter on my way to church and begged to know the name of the lady in No. 81, adding, to excuse my curiosity, that I was going to tea in her room.

"Madame la Comtesse d'Avigdor," said he in a tone of deep respect, looking at my rather shabby self with surprise.

"Dear me," thought I, "what an escort for a hospital-nurse! This time my angel has made a very wise choice of a body to play bo-peep out of. She may fold her wings and take it easy; the Countess will do the rest." And when I knocked at the door of No. 81 I knocked humbly, and thought perhaps I had made a mistake in venturing to knock at all. But Madame la Comtesse answered "Avanti," and looked just as friendly and English as if her name had been Mrs. Brown, and she had merely said, "Come in." Everything was arranged; the courier had secured a first-class

carriage all for herself, and her son and her maid could not fill it; there would be plenty of room for me. And there would be a lunch-basket provided; I was to take no thought for the morrow.

"Truly, truly my angel has been busy," I reflected, and I gave thanks.

"You were at the English church doubtless," said Madame.

"Surely," I replied; "did you not see me?"

"I was not there; I am not of your persuasion," she answered smiling.

66 'Ah, Madame la Comtesse is a Catholic," I said. "I might have known that from her Spanish name."

"Not so," answered she simply; "I am an Israelite."

"What on earth could take a Jewess to Rome?" asked I of myself, as I lay down in bed that night. "But I am glad I was not angry with the poor hunchback at Salurn;" and so thinking I fell asleep.

In those days I was so much more used to looking after other people than being looked after myself, that the eight or nine hours of our transit to Rome passed in amused contemplation and elation of spirit. Did I want to look out of the window? The old lady was ready to talk, and had something worth hearing to relate about every place of importance we passed, for she had often made the journey before. Did I want to read when the prospect was tame?

Mon

sieur Sergius was most polite in offering me books and papers. Was I hungry? The maid gave me meat and wine, spreading a clean napkin over my knees first. And once (I think it was at Orvieto) we saw a little pig being roasted whole on the platform where we drew up, and the ever-ready courier came up with a plateful of savoury roast pork. Of

course the nationality of my companions compelled them to decline it; but I ate with a relish, partly owing to the novel flavour of the prune-sauce which accompanied it, but partly also to the sense of fun in my whole surroundings which was strong upon

me.

"Where shall I tell the man to drive?" said the polite courier, as by the Countess's orders he put me and my impedimenta into a carriage at Rome station. "Pension B.," said I, remembering the pink-capped lady at Bologna.

"Au revoir," said my Angel as she waved her hand. "Come and dine with me next Sunday."

"A thousand thanks," said I, "and still some left for our next

meeting! I shall never forget you."

It was the 12th of November when I rang the bell at Pension B., humbly asking to be taken in for a week or ten days till my friend should join me, and we could take an apartment together; it was the 12th of March when that door shut behind me for the last time! Meanwhile the good ladies who owned that house looked me up and looked me down, as I sat in their ante-room on the day of my arrival. They were not accustomed to take in chance boarders, said they; they had a large connection and their rooms were all bespoken, if not actually occupied.

"But I am alone," pleaded I, 'quite alone, and I do not know Italian; surely you will house me till my friend comes from Davos?"

"We are so very particular," murmured they; "the reputation of our Pension depends on our guests," and they shook their heads. "All sorts of people come to Rome." And I wished heartily that they had been Israelites, instead of genteel maiden ladies belonging to the Church of

England. Still they had several rooms empty, and when I had faithfully promised to give up my quarters if required to do so, they at last consented that I should occupy a large double chamber opening out on the Piazza de Spagna. And so that first night in Rome I laid my head on the pillow, and dreamed of the scarlet lady sitting on the seven hills.

I never felt more Protestant in my life than when I walked about the streets the next day. I had come there against my will: I had protested at every convenient opportunity; and what had been the result? What indeed? But you shall hear.

It was weeks before my friend could get away from Davos, and when she came her sick child had to be left behind, the travelling being still too rough and uncertain for an invalid. So her visit was a flying one, and her chief errand an interview with the Pope.

Pension B. was really full by that time, for it was Christmas, but I had not been turned out. An apartment could not be found in the height of a busy season. So my friend put up at a Catholic hotel near, and ran in and out of Pension B. at her pleasure. Together we made a round of the sights, while the strings were being pulled which would obtain the wished for audience.

With her it was not a case of kissing his Holiness's toe, and talking of it ever afterwards as the tourists do. To her his voice came as a voice from Heaven saying: saying "This is the way, walk ye in it." See him she must; had she not come on purpose? "But there are difficulties in the way, dear Miss," said she as we walked up and down the Pincian Hill, watching the sun set behind St. Peter's. "I was to have

This was one evening at sunset as I have related. At six the next morning she was at my bedside. "Awake, awake, dear Miss, the order has come ! His Holiness will see me to-day at noon. There is to be a small audience of some sisters of the Sacré Cœur, and I am to be admitted with them, and you must go with me."

"Go with you! Certainly not; I am not a Catholic; I want nothing of the Pope," said I startled out of my manners.

a

But, Miss, reflect, I cannot go alone; one lady alone without chaperone; it is impossible! And the Chamberlain said I might bring you when I asked him. You will have nothing to do, nothing to say; and his Holiness will take no notice of you, when he hears you are of the Anglican Church. Think what a favour it is that you should be admitted to his presence!"

'Me think it a favour to see the Pope?" exclaimed I ungrammatically and fervently. But observing a grieved look on my friend's hitherto joyful face I became calmer. If she really could not go without me, it would be unkind to forsake her. But she must understand; I did not go to pay my reverence to him, or to acknowledge his supremacy over an Englishwoman. I would go simply as a chaperone, regardless of the fact that we were of the same age and she was a widow. A black dress and a black scarf over my head was all that etiquette required, and I promised to be with her at half-past ten, that we might start in good time. The hour found

66

me waiting, but she was not ready. In a fervour of excitement she had rushed from shop to shop choosing rosaries to be blessed and carried home to her friends. Hasten, my friend, hasten!" said I. "The Pope is not accustomed to be kept waiting; you will lose your audience after all." And I adjusted her beautiful lace over her more beautiful hair, and arranged the strings of mother o' pearl and silver over her arm and then we were off. "You will promise that I may keep in the background," said I. "I would not for the world pretend what I do not feel."

"I promise," said she, and we drew up at the Vatican.

"What would my dear dead father think of me?" was my reflection as I mounted the long flight of stairs. "Am I really going into the house of Antichrist after all the teaching of my childhood?" I remembered how Naaman the Syrian felt, and like him I said, "Pardon me in this thing."

Then we were ushered into a vast empty ante-chamber hung with tapestries, with a brazier of charcoal in the centre, where the Chamberlain presently came and chatted with my friend and the sisters who were there before us. Soon we were moved forward (like chessmen, I thought), into the audience-chamber, where some nuns were kneeling in a row, and a sprinkling of bright uniforms relieved their blackness on the opposite side. Down went my friend on her knees, and the Chamberlain touched my shoulder. "It is a form," said he in English; "comply with it." There was a Swiss Guard with a drawn sword just behind, and what could I do but obey the voice? "Pray Heaven I get safe out again!" was my cry in spirit as I cast a terrified glance over

my shoulder, for I have ever had a dread of soldiers.

When I turned my head again there was a mild-looking old gentleman clothed entirely in white even to his slippers and mittens, talking gently to the nuns in soft Italian speech. I drew back behind my friend as far as I could, without impaling myself on the Swiss Guard's naked sword when his Holiness came near us, and devoutly hoped he would not see me. But he gave us each a hand to kiss, and exchanged question and answer with my friend, whose family had known him when he was only a Cardinal. I had plenty of time to look at him, for she had much to say, and of course I understood not a word of their talk. I was just recovering from my nervousness when he turned to his Chamberlain, or ecclesiastic in attendance, and asked in French, "Who is this lady, and why is she here?"

"Oh," returned he, "she comes but as escort to her friend, and she is a heretic; your Holiness need not trouble to speak to her."

If she is a heretic," said he, "why does she wear the sign of our faith?" touching as he spoke the cross round my neck. The Chamberlain shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment but my friend took up the word.

"She is no heretic, Holy Father,' said she warmly. "She is a good Christian who nurses the sick and the poor, but she had the misfortune to be born in England, which is not to be laid to her door as a fault."

"My daughter," said the kindly voice of an old man, as he laid one hand on my head, and gave me the other to kiss for a second time. "I give you my blessing; prosper in your good works," and he moved away. The Chamberlain followed; the Guard formed round him; he turned on the