“I’m going to the banker’s first, for letters, and then to Castle Hill; the view is so lovely, and I like to feed the peacocks. Have you ever been there?”
“Often, years ago; but I don’t mind having a look at it.”
“Now tell me all about yourself. The last I heard of you, your grandfather wrote that he expected you from Berlin.”
“Yes, I spent a month there, and then joined him in Paris, where he has settled for the winter. He has friends there, and finds plenty to amuse him; so I go and come, and we get on capitally.”
“That’s a sociable arrangement,” said Amy, missing something in Laurie’s manner, though she couldn’t tell what.
“Why, you see he hates to travel, and I hate to keep still; so we each suit ourselves, and there is no trouble. I am often with him, and he enjoys my adventures, while I like to feel that someone is glad to see me when I get back from my wanderings. Dirty old hole, isn’t it?” he added, with a look of disgust, as they drove along the boulevard to the Place Napoleon, in the old city.
“The dirt is picturesque, so I don’t mind. The river and the hills are delicious, and these glimpses of the narrow cross-streets are my delight. Now we shall have to wait for that procession to pass; it’s going to the Church of St. John.”
While Laurie listlessly watched the procession of priests under their canopies, white-veiled nuns bearing lighted tapers, and some brotherhood in blue, chanting as they walked, Amy watched him, and felt a new sort of shyness steal over her; for he was changed, and she could not find the merry-faced boy she left in the moody-looking man beside her. He was handsomer than ever, and greatly improved, she