VERONICA.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "AUNT MARGARET'S TROUBLE."

IN FIVE BOOKS.

BOOK III.
CHAPTER V. A SHADOW ACROSS THE SUNSHINE.

THE summer passed away monotonously
at Villa Chiari. The heat increased steadily,
reached a climax, and then began as steadily
to abate. All through the blazing months
Sir John remained at the villa. The house
basked in the glare of the long day with
closed blinds, like a living thing asleep in
the sunshine. Then, towards evening,
doors and windows were thrown open, and
figures were seen seated beneath the loggia,
or pacing the shadiest garden walks, and
the sound of footsteps echoed on the flagged
courtyard.

As the days and weeks and months went
by, and brought no tidings from Maud or
the vicar, Veronica grew restlessly
discontented. For some time anger supported
her spirits. But by degrees she became
tormented by apprehensions for her father's
health. The apprehensions were only
momentary, but they returned oftener and
oftener. She debated the possibility that
none of her letters had been received, and
twisted the matter this way and that way
in her mind.

Once she spoke to Sir John on the
subject.

It was after a fit of depression and
tears, and she was unable to suffer alone.
She felt impelled to make him share her
pain.

"I do wonder how papa is!" she said,
unexpectedly, as they were sitting alone
together in the twilight.

Sir John made no answer, but turned
uneasily in his chair.

"I do wonder. I want to know. I must
know!"

"What is the meaning of this sudden
anxiety?"

"It is not sudden. Because I have kept
it to myself so long, you cannot understand
that I have been suffering all this time!"

Veronica really thought for the moment
that she had been generously sparing him.
She knew herself to have been unhappy at
intervals, and omitted to observe that the
first moment she had felt the desire to speak
of her unhappiness to Sir John, she had
yielded to it without a thought of restraining
herself for his sake.

"Well, what can I do? Can I help it
if they take no notice of you? Besides,
what is there to be anxious about? No
news is good news."

"I wrote to Maud. I did think she
would have answered me!"

"Bah! You are infatuated with that
girl. I wonder that a person of your
intellect should be so taken in by her missish
airs."

"You know nothing about Maud," cried
Veronica, quickly. "You cannot understand
her one bit."

"Neither, it seems, can you," retorted
Sir John. Praise of Maud always
displeased him. Veronica's reverence and
admiration for her, irritated him peculiarly.

Veronica started up with a little childish
exclamation of impatience, and walked to
the window.

"I must know how papa is!" she said.
Her voice was changed now. There were
certain deep tones in it which the mention
of Maud alone called forth.

Her pettishness disturbed Sir John much
less than her earnestness.

"Amor mio," he said, soothingly, "rest
assured that if any evil had happened to