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Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. Then it came to her with a shock, as an extraordinary oversight, that she could never tell Manning about Ramage—never. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. "Now stand before me, Poll. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit.
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