of bearing had vanished; and the coarse nature, between the shame of detection, the sting of wounded vanity, and the exasperation of defeat, was carried along as by a torrent, uttering words as he strode up and down the room that would not have escaped him had he been on his guard. He knew whose writing it was those low, cowardly fellows thought they could say what they pleased, because they kept behind the curtain; but there was no mistaking the mean, envious spite, that would go any lengths to blast a rival. He knew his touch, his style-and he would make him pay for it-and so on, happily not half understood by any one but his sister, but intelligible enough, as far as passion went, to terrify Lady Honora, who could hardly find voice to ask what it all meant. Her agitation and fright, bringing both Juliet and Nita to her assistance, in some degree restored the angry man's recollection; and he made a faint attempt to laugh at himself for being moved by something so beneath his notice. The attempt did not deceive Juliet, whose dismay at his behaviour had reference to Clarice alone-what sort of life would hers be with such a temper? Though he was comparatively calm when he left the room, she knew by his mutterings that he was still enraged, and she could not help showing Nita how much she was shocked.

Miss Hartington's lip curled in bitterness. "Do you call that so dreadful to bear, my dear? Ever since I was fifteen I have been exposed to a great deal worse, and I am still alive to tell it. I am only glad your sister was not in the room."

Juliet almost wished she had been; but refrained from uttering the wish, and turned to inspect the article that caused the outbreak. Nita read it over her shoulder, and observed that she was not surprised at Thorncliff's being annoyed, especially if he believed it were written by Mr. Romilly.

Juliet felt certain it was not. The style was not Alexander's; and she believed he had been too much engaged with the affairs of his relation, who had died while he was abroad. This opinion Nita carried privately to her brother; but the only reply she received was, that whoever wrote the article should be made to pay for it, and if Romilly did not write it himself, he must know who did. He made some excuse to the ladies about urgent business, and went up to town that evening.

CHAPTER V.

"I MUST confess," wrote Romilly to his betrothed the next day, "that I have been

considerably annoyed by a visit from Mr. Hartington, who has taken great offence at the treatment of Guy Denzil in the last Watchfire. As he so openly acknowledges the work, I wonder why he assumed that unlucky name; however, though he was very angry with me, and all the rest of the world, I could not give him any satisfaction; for it is not our way to give up names on demand, nor was the occasion one for apology. I need hardly tell you that the review is not mine. Indeed, I never saw it till after I had sent you the number; but I was not going to answer any questions, put as this gentleman is pleased to put them. Truth compels me to state that he behaved in such a manner, that I very nearly turned him into the street; and his parting shot was the announcement that in no house of his should I ever be received. I could only assure him that the reception would never be asked for. Now, my darling, this brings matters to a point. You will have to choose between us-if your home is to be with him we are parted indeed; you must not delude yourself about his temper. Where he once hates, it is for life, and he has his own reasons for hating me."

"It is coming to that-I knew it would!" thought Juliet, as she studied this passage of her letter again and again.

She was sure her sister had received one from Mr. Hartington, and watched for an opportunity of speaking to her in private. Such opportunities had, of late, been comparatively rare, but Clarice's desires that morning met hers half-way. She called her into her room, on some pretext of millinery, and having locked the door, held out her hand. "There is no quarrel between us, at any rate, Juliet ?"

"Nor ever can be," said Juliet; "but there may be division, Clarice, and great sadness for us all. You must help me to break it to

"You mean to leave us in our strait ?”

"In no strait whatever would I have thought of leaving you, if my staying could have helped you through; but, as matters stand, I should only add to your difficulties."

The elder sister's face had grown very pale, and every muscle seemed to quiver with the effort to remain calm, while Juliet, without restraint, wept on her shoulder.

"You would not have me do it, Clarice. Could I live in a house whose door was shut on Alick, for no fault of his-Alick, who came when we were so desolate, and was made sc welcome then?"

"And there is no alternative ?"

OF

all the hill towns of Umbria and Tuscany, San Gemignano, while one of the smallest, is one of the most interesting, and certainly the most picturesque. It lies in the heart of a country that has a peculiar fascination for all lovers of Italian art and literature, not only on account of the famous men who were natives of these districts of ancient Etruria, but because of the strange influence of the scenery itself-scenery in tensely Italian, yet unlike the preconceived ideas of any one concerning that magic land. There are few of the minor towns of Tuscany better worth a visit, though it is the case that a very limited number of travellers seem to care about even passing an hour or two within

its crumbling walls and narrow picturesque streets. Yet it is within easy reach either of Florence or Siena, and no one in the least degree really interested in art, not to speak of history and natural beauty, should hesitate as to making at least a few hours' pilgrimage to the "City of the Beautiful Towers."

San Gemignano could never have been a place of great importance commercially, for it lies, and always did lie, completely out of the world, that is, away from the great routes whereon the trade from the chief Italian towns of the north continually passed to and fro, nor had it any natural advantages or manufactures of its own wherewith to achieve

and maintain a position of importance. But from a strategic point of view it was justly esteemed in bygone days as a stronghold of very great value; and that it was for a time a great centre is evident from the fact that Dante Alighieri was sent, as the ambassador of the Florentine Republic, to convey the thanks of the latter to the inhabitants of the smaller state for great services rendered throughout the many minor wars before and after the great victory at Campaldino over the Ghibellines of Arezzo. It was long, however, before the birth of the famous ambassador that San Gemignano became a place of importance; indeed, it is known to have flourished under another name at least three hundred years before the future author of the "Divine Comedy" was born. One tradition has it that the ancient city of Silvio was saved from destruction by the intercestion of an eloquent bishop with the generally

not over scrupulous Attila; but another and more probable account is that it was founded by Desiderius, the last of the Lombards, in the eighth century. The first event of importance to the little township that has been handed down in its public records was the visitation of Pope Eugene III. in 1148 on his way from France to Rome, attended by seventeen cardinals; and it was on this occasion that the church of La Collegiata was raised to the dignity of a cathedral. The next great event is the visit of Dante as ambassador of the Florentines, already recorded. Not so many years after this act of duly appreciated courtesy, the citizens of San Gemignano became alarmed at the tyrannic sway of the Duke of Athens over the Florentine territories, and, throwing off their allegiance to the Republic, declared their absolute independence of all other states, and at the same time announced that

they had constituted a government of their own. The same fate that overtook all the independent Italian cities of the Middle Ages came upon the sturdy and turbulent little town among the lonely Tuscan hills. Foreign enemies were kept at bay, or did not declare hostilities; but internecine strife raged continually for the next decade, and with far more disastrous results than ever accrued from the attack of any external foe. The plague swept over San Gemignano again and again; indeed, it is said to have ravaged the little city thirteen times in a space of little over two hundred years, and in

the year 1418 two thousand of the citizens died from this cause alone. Ever since that period it may be said to have dragged on a drowsy existence, till now the ancient walls and lofty towers are perceptibly in extreme old age, and the inhabitants, few in number and, for the most part, joyless in mien, move one or two at a time along the narrow streets, heedless even of the infrequent stranger, and apparently indifferent to all things under the sun.

The easiest way in which to reach San

Gemignano is to break off from the route from Florence to Rome at Poggibonsi, whence the distance is only seven miles, for the accomplishment of which in a small carriage or legnetto the charge is only three lire, or halfa-crown. A still pleasanter way, especially for those desirous of paying a visit to the magnificent old Etrurian city of Volterra, is to take the "City of the Towers" en route from Siena to the latter, a journey which, by leaving Siena in the early morning, can be accomplished in one day, though only two or three hours will thus be afforded in San Gemignano itself. Or again, and certainly for the inured pedestrian, the pleasantest way of all is to start from Certaldo, the birthplace of Boccaccio, and reach the hill-set town by way of the little village that has the honour of having produced Guercio del Gambasso, the master of Luca della Robbia.

It is generally found most convenient to visit the old town from Siena, and in this case the city of St. Catherine should be left by the Porta Camullia, at its extreme northern end. It is a delightful drive through a fertile country, sunlit, yet with that strange sombreness which, even in the month of May, here verily the month of flowers, strikes such a keenly pathetic note amid all the delicate loveliness around. The pink gladiolus waves among the long grasses, clusters of azure flax make little blue hollows every here and there, and poppies gleam like straight flames against the pale greenness of the young corn, or droop along the dusty roadway like discarded banners of an army of fairy folk, dispersed hours ago by the first lance-like shafts of the dawn. Every here and there a lark, unseen, will be heard filling the ever-deepening blue above with joyous song; and occasionally there will float upon the warm wind the bleating of young lambs upon the pastures, or the distant barking of a dog. But for the most part there is little seen of active human life; a strange dreaminess seems to rest upon the few scattered villages as upon the land; at most an infrequent team of oxen will be met, those great, white, pathetic-eyed Tuscan oxen, with a sun-tanned teamster drowsily recumbent on the rough cart behind, possessed of just sufficient energy to raise his handsome face, and with a genial smile remark, "Buon' giorno, signore, fa' bel tempo." Far away are seen the heights of Monte Liscai and Monte Riggioni, pale blue in the sun-hazed atmosphere, deepening only when a passing cloudlet drifts over their flanks a shadow of melting purple. Ricciano and the

tiny village of Abbadia are passed on the left, the latter looking like a large white butterfly clinging to a verdant swell of meadow, and in its air of absolute repose recalling drowsy Signa on her hill-slope above the Arno. Colle, a double town, consisting of Colle Alto and Colle Basso (upper and lower), is ere long descried on the right. The scenery becomes more and more attractive, owing to the narrowing of the low hills, and at last a point is rounded, and against the deep blue of the sky and a steep semicircular mountain background a number of lofty towers stand out in bold relief, while the vetturino calls out loudly, "Eccola! San Gemignano!"

Though only some fourteen towers remain out of the seventy or eighty that once rose above the narrow streets, the old town still deserves its appellation, "San Gemignano delle belle torri e delle belle campane,' whatever truth there may be in the vicious second line of the couplet, "Gli uomini brutti, e le donne befane." These "beautiful towers make of this place a picturesque scene that once viewed is never forgotten, and that to the artist is full of endless charm. Imposing as these erections are-and still more so must have been in olden days-their origin is not due to the aesthetic sense of the citizens, but to sensible care for themselves and their fortunes, and to foolish vanity. For whereas the building of the first great tower was owing to a spirit of communal independence, that of the second was due to the pride of one of the dominant families; soon afterwards a rival house built one somewhat taller than that of their neighbours-a small one, and, like all those of the city, square; then, through successive periods, different branches of the Salvucci family erected numerous lofty and strongly-built towers— useful for defensive and even offensive purposes, as well as gratifying to feudal pride; while during corresponding periods of more or less temporary ascendancy, the chief adherents of the opposite faction, the Ardinghellis, raised rival towers of equal or greater strength and height. It is tolerably certain that all, or the greater number of these partizan monuments, were erected not later than the end of the thirteenth century, for on the Tower of the Palazzo del Podesta, in the Piazza della Collegiata, there is still visible the communal limit beyond which private individuals were forbidden to raise their torri. It is recorded that the building of the large tower just mentioned arose out of the offence taken by the Commune at the surliness of