Yet she did not neglect the graceful comforts and elegancies of the Palazzo d'Oro, and life went on in that charming abode peacefully. Morgana always being the kindest of patrons to Lady Kingswood, and discoursing feminine commonplaces with her as though there were no other subjects of conversation in the world than embroidery and specific cures for rheumatism. She said little--indeed almost nothing,--of her aerial voyage to the East, except that she had enjoyed it, and that the Pyramids and the Sphinx were dwarfed into mere insignificant dots on the land as seen from the air,--she had apparently nothing more to describe, and Lady Kingswood was not sufficiently interested in air-travel to press enquiry. One bright sunny morning, after a week of her self-imposed seclusion, she announced her intention of calling at the monastery to see Don Aloysius.
"I have been rather rude"--she said--"Of course he has wanted to know how my flight to the East went off!--and I have given no sign and sent no message."
"He has called several times"--replied Lady Kingswood--"and I think he has been very much disappointed not to be received."
"Poor reverend Father!" and Morgana smiled--"He should not bother his mind about a woman! Well! I'm going to see him now."
Lady Kingswood looked at her critically. She was gowned in a simple white morning frock with touches of blue,--and she wore a broad-brimmed Tuscan straw hat with a fold of blue carelessly twined about it. She made a pretty picture--one of extraordinary youthfulness for any woman out of her 'teens--so much so that Lady Kingswood wondered if voyages in the air would be found to have a rejuvenating effect.
"They do not admit women into the actual monastery"--she went on--"Feminine frivolities are forbidden! But the ruined cloister is open to visitors and I shall ask to see Don Aloysius there."
She lightly waved adieu and went, leaving her amiable and contented chaperone to the soothing companionship of a strip of embroidery at which she worked with the leisurely tranquillity which such an occupation engenders.
The ruined cloister looked very beautiful that morning, with its crumbling arches crowned and festooned with roses climbing every way at their own sweet will, and Morgana's light figure gave just the touch of human interest to the solemn peacefulness of the scene. She waited but two or three minutes before Don Aloysius appeared--he had seen her arrive from the window of his own private library. He approached her slowly--there was a gravity in the expression of his face that almost amounted to coldness, and no smile lightened it as she met his keen, fixed glance.