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She spoke with a languid foreign accent, and with an emphatic and bountiful use of adjectives, that gave to our severer generation an impression of insincerity. Yet it was said with truth that Giulia Petrucci had never forgotten a friend nor an enemy. "Goneril is outside," said Miss Hamelyn. "How is Miss Prunty?" "Brigida? Oh, you must come inside and see my invaluable Brigida.
"Goneril," said Miss Hamelyn, "let me beg you again to come inside the carriage." "Oh no, Aunt Margaret; I'm not a bit tired." "But I have asked you; that is reason enough." "It's so hot!" cried Goneril. "That is why I object to your walking." "But if it's so hot for me, just think how hot is must be for the horse." Goneril cast a commiserating glance at the poor, halting, wheezing nag.
Miss Hamelyn left the carriage and ascended the steep little flight of steps that leads from the road to the cottage garden. In the porch a singular figure was awaiting her. "Good afternoon, Madame Petrucci," said Miss Hamelyn. A slender old lady, over sixty, rather tall, in a brown silk skirt, and a white burnouse that showed the shrunken slimness of her arms, came eagerly forward.
I suppose it is in your family?" asked the old lady. Miss Hamelyn blushed a little, for her niece's name was a sore point with her. "It's an awful name for any Christian woman," said a deep voice at the door. "And pray, who's called Goneril?"
In short, the private parlour of an elderly and respectable Diva of the year '40. "Brigida!" cried Madame Petrucci, going to the door. "Brigida! our charming English friend is arrived!" "All right!" answered a strong hearty voice from upstairs. "I'm coming." "You must excuse me, dear Miss Hamelyn," went on Madame Petrucci.
"She is an Italian, Signora Petrucci; she used to be very handsome." "Oh!" said Goneril, looking pleased. "I'm glad she's handsome, and that they speak English. But they are not relations?" "No, they are not connected; they are friends." "And have they always lived together?" "Ever since Madame Lilli died," and Miss Hamelyn named a very celebrated singer.
"And how, this evening, is Madamigella Ruth?" So he had seen her this evening, binding his corn. "I am quite well, padrone," she said, smiling shyly. The two old ladies looked on amazed, for of course they were not in the secret. "Signor Graziano, Miss Goneril Hamelyn," said Miss Prunty, rather severely. Goneril felt that the time was come for silence and good manners.
"The horse, probably," rejoined Miss Hamelyn, "does not suffer from malaria, neither has he kept his aunt in Florence nursing him till the middle heat of the summer." "True!" said Goneril. Then, after a few minutes, "I'll get in, Aunt Margaret, on one condition." "In my time young people did not make conditions."
"Of course we shall!" cried the elder lady. "Goneril is easily made happy," asserted Miss Hamelyn. "That's a good thing," snapped Miss Prunty, "for there's not much here to make her so!" "O Brigida! I am sure there are many attractions. The air, the view, the historic association! and, more than all, you know there is always a chance of the signorino!"
"That is why I object to your walking." "But if it's so hot for me, just think how hot it must be for the horse." Goneril cast a commiserating glance at the poor halting, wheezing nag. "The horse, probably," rejoined Miss Hamelyn, "does not suffer from malaria, neither has he kept his aunt in Florence nursing him till the middle heat of the summer." "True!" said Goneril.
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