and lent full rein to his natural domesticity. He was fond of both the
girls, but did not at all understand them; Greta, his own daughter, was
his favourite. Villa Rubein remained their home; it was cheap and roomy.
Money, since Paul became housekeeper to himself, was scarce.

About this time Mrs. Decie, his wife's sister, whose husband had died
in the East, returned to England; Paul invited her to come and live with
them. She had her own rooms, her own servant; the arrangement suited
Paul--it was economically sound, and there was some one always there to
take care of the girls. In truth he began to feel the instinct of the
"freeman" rising again within him; it was pleasant to run over to Vienna
now and then; to play piquet at a Club in Gries, of which he was the
shining light; in a word, to go "on the tiles" a little. One could not
always mourn--even if a woman were an angel; moreover, his digestion was
as good as ever.

The fourth quarter of this Villa was occupied by Nicholas Treffry, whose
annual sojourn out of England perpetually surprised himself. Between him
and his young niece, Christian, there existed, however, a rare sympathy;
one of those affections between the young and old, which, mysteriously
born like everything in life, seems the only end and aim to both, till
another feeling comes into the younger heart.

Since a long and dangerous illness, he had been ordered to avoid the
English winter, and at the commencement of each spring he would appear
at Botzen, driving his own horses by easy stages from the Italian
Riviera, where he spent the coldest months. He always stayed till June
before going back to his London Club, and during all that time he let no
day pass without growling at foreigners, their habits, food, drink, and
raiment, with a kind of big dog's growling that did nobody any harm. The