There was, as a matter of fact, a villa on the shore of Lake Maggiore which she had seen the previous year, and which had impressed itself upon her memory as being the loveliest spot earth could show--a veritable dreamland--and when she had turned her mind to the task of finding some retreat, hidden safely from the eyes of curious passers-by, and possessing all the necessary qualifications of climate and comfort, it had at once struck her as the very place she sought.
She had laid her plans with eager care, no detail for his well-being should be forgotten. It only now remained that she should receive a reply in the affirmative to her letter of inquiry as to whether the house was available.
Francis was sitting beside her watching the smiles come and go on her expressive face as she grew more and more interested in her theme.
"Go on, dearest," he said, as she paused. "Tell me some more about your paradise."
"There is a terrace in front of it where lilies and oleanders grow and roses riot over an old stone wall, and the air is rich with the scent of them. At one end is a tall cypress-tree, and the sunlight touches the stem of it until it shines like fire against the green darkness of its boughs. On the worn old stone pavement white pigeons strut and preen themselves, puffing out their chests with the most absurd air of self-satisfaction. There are steps down from the terrace, and at the bottom there is a great bed of carnations, red and white and yellow, and their fragrance meets you like a wall of perfume as you pass."
"There should be violets," he interrupted. "Where are your violets? You could not be happy without them."
"Oh, of course there are violets," agreed Philippa, "masses of them, but I am not at all sure that they flower at the same time as the roses and lilies and carnations. I don't know much about gardening. Well, you walk down the pathway into a grove of olive-trees--a shimmer of pale silvery green, a sort of dim aisle in fairyland--until you come to the water's edge. There is an old stone seat, and you can just sit and look and look and drink it all in. No, not the water--the view, I mean. Blue water, brilliant heavenly blue, and far away in the distance a line of hills, faint and yet clear under a sky that is---- Oh, I don't know how to describe it. It is ridiculous to say it is blue. You must try and imagine it for yourself. And I think--oh yes, I am sure--there would be just a gleam of snowy whiteness on the top of the hills."