Was it so clear?—was it all for this that the Palazzo dei Sogni had witnessed so many agitations, and that life had changed so strangely for that one grave Tuscan, whose days were so full of business, and whose little English wife had so many gossips? Poor Pandolfini! Diana made no answer to her guest’s happy trust in the Providence which had made such elaborate arrangements for her comfort. That chapter of life was over, whatever might have been in it,— 고소득알바 over and closed and ended, till the time when the harvest shall be gathered, and all shall be known—where the tares came from, and where the wheat.

But Pandolfini never brought his wife to England, notwithstanding the impulse of mingled recollection and jealousy which made her long to go home when she heard of Diana’s adoption of her aunt. “Go, Sophy, if you will: but this little one is too young to travel,” he said. And Sophy, grumbling, stayed at home. After all, the man had the best of it. What flower of happiness so exquisite as this child could have come into his barren days, but for Mr. Hunstanton’s mistake? Mrs. Norton betrayed that he had carried it away, according to the custom of his Church, and had it{304} christened the day after it was born, without even consulting the mother about its name. He had called it Stella, though that was not a family name even. Why Stella?—though it was a pretty name enough. And it is not quite clear that even Diana knew why.