“What is it? oh! what is it?” cried they.

Barbara found just voice enough to say:  “No bad news from home,” and then appealingly held her letter toward Mr. Sumner.

“Shall I read it?” and as she bowed assent, he hastily scanned the contents.

“Howard left a large portion of his money to Barbara,” he said briefly, in response to the inquiring eyes, and handed the letter back to the agitated girl, who, with Bettina, sought their own room.

Then he added, striving to keep his voice calm and natural:  “It seems that the very day before he was taken ill, Howard went to a lawyer in Florence and made a codicil to his will, in which he grouped several bequests heretofore given, into one large one, which he gave to Barbara.  This he at once sent to his lawyer in Boston, who has now written to Barbara.”

“This is what poor Howard tried so hard to tell me at the last,” said Mrs. Douglas.  “He began two or three times, but did not have the strength to continue.  I suspected it was something like this, but thought it best not to mention it.  How much is it?” she asked after a pause, during which Malcom and Margery had talked in earnest tones.

“Nearly half a million,” answered Mr. Sumner.

Barbara the owner of nearly half a million dollars!  No wonder she was overcome!  It seemed like an Arabian Nights’ tale.

“How perfectly lovely!” cried Margery; and her mother echoed her words.

Mr. Sumner looked rather grave.  It was not that Barbara should have the money, but that another should have the right to give it her.  Some one else to bless the life of the girl who was becoming so dear to him!  To whom he was beginning to long to bring all good things!  It was as if the dead Howard came in some way between himself and her; and he went out alone beneath the trees of the Pincian Gardens to think it all over.

Meanwhile, the two girls were in their chamber.  Barbara threw herself on a couch beneath the window, and gazed with unseeing eyes up into the depths of the Italian sky.  She was stunned by the news the letter had brought, and, as yet, thought was completely passive.

Bettina read several times the lawyer’s letter, trying to understand its contents.  At last she said gently:—­

“Can it be possible, Bab?  I can hardly comprehend how much it is.  We have never thought of so much money in all our lives.  Why! you are rich, dear.  You have more money than you ever can spend!”

Barbara sprang from the couch, and threw out her arms with an exultant gesture.

“Spend!  I hadn’t once thought of that!  Betty!  Betty!  Papa and mamma shall have everything they wish!  They shall never work so hard any more!  Mamma shall have a seamstress every day, and her poor pricked fingers shall grow smooth!  She shall have the loveliest clothes, and never again give the prettiest of everything to you and me!  Papa shall have vacations, and books,