The Point of View | Page 2

be the wife of an aesthetic high church curate, who fasted severely

during Lent and had rigid views upon most subjects, began to grow into
a picture which held out less and less charm for her.
But Aunt Caroline was firm--and the habit of twenty-one years of
obedience held.
Perhaps Fate was looking on in sympathy with her unrest. In any case,
it appeared like the jade's hand and not chance which made Uncle
Erasmus decide to take his holiday early in the year and to decide to
spend it abroad--not in Scotland or Wales as was his custom.
Stella, he said, should see the eternal city and Florence before settling
down in the autumn to her new existence.
Miss Rawson actually jumped with joy--and the knowledge that
Eustace Medlicott would be unable to accompany them, but might join
them later on, did not damp her enthusiasm.
Every bit of the journey was a pleasure, from the moment they landed
on French soil. They had come straight through to Rome from Paris,
where they had spent a week at a small hotel; because of the lateness of
the year they must get to their southern point first of all and return
northward in a more leisurely manner.
And now anyone who is reading this story can picture this respectable
English family and understand their status and antecedents, so we can
very well get back to them seated in the agreeable restaurant of the
Grand Hotel at Rome--beginning to partake of a modest dinner.
Mrs. Ebley (I had almost written the Reverend Mrs. Ebley!) was
secretly enjoying herself--she had that feeling that she was in a place
where she ought not to be--through no fault of her own--and so was
free to make the most of it, and certainly these well- dressed people
were very interesting to glance at between mouthfuls of a particularly
well-cooked fish.
Stella was thrilling all over and her soft brown eyes were sparkling and
her dazzlingly pink and white complexion glowing with health and

excitement, so that even in the Exminster confection of black grenadine
she was an agreeable morsel for the male eye to dwell upon.
There were the usual company there: the younger diplomats from the
Embassies; a sprinkling of trim Italian officers in their pretty uniforms;
French and Austrian ladies; as well as the attractive- looking native and
American representatives of the elite of Roman society.
The tables began to fill up before the Ebleys had finished their fish, and
numbers of the parties seemed to know one another and nod and
exchange words en passant.
But there was one table laid for a single person which remained empty
until the entrees were being handed, and Stella, with her fresh interest
in the whole scene, wondered for whom it was reserved.
He came in presently--and he really merits a descriptive paragraph all
to himself.
He was a very tall man and well made, with broad shoulders and a
small head. His evening clothes, though beautifully pressed, with that
look which only a thoroughly good valet knows how to stamp upon his
master's habiliments as a daily occurrence, were of foreign cut and
hand, and his shirt, unstarched, was of the finest pleated cambric.
These trifles, however, were not what rendered him remarkable, but
that his light brown hair was worn parted in the middle and waved back
a la vierge with a rather saintly expression, and was apparently just cut
off in a straight line at the back. This was quite peculiar-looking
enough--and in conjunction with a young, silky beard, trimmed into a
sharp point with the look of an archaic Greek statue, he presented a
type not easily forgotten. The features were regular and his eyes were
singularly calm and wise and blue.
It seemed incredible that such an almost grotesque arrangement of
coiffure should adorn the head of a man in modern evening dress. It
should have been on some Byzantine saint. However, there he was, and
entirely unconcerned at the effect he was producing.

The waiters, who probably knew his name and station, precipitated
themselves forward to serve him, and with leisurely mien he ordered a
recherche dinner and a pint of champagne.
Stella Rawson was much interested and so were her uncle and aunt.
"What a very strange-looking person," Mrs. Ebley said. "Of what
nation can he be? Erasmus, have you observed him?"
Canon Ebley put on his pince-nez and gave the newcomer the benefit
of a keen scrutiny.
"I could not say with certainty, my dear. A northerner evidently-- but
whether Swedish or Danish it would be difficult to determine," he
announced.
"He does not appear to know he is funny-looking," Stella Rawson said,
timidly. "Do you notice, Aunt Caroline, he does not look about him at
all, he has never