“Oh dear!  I don’t care.  If he would only go quietly and nicely, I should like to have him go too, and never, never see a man again except dear papa.  And I think it’s a shame.  And I don’t see why I should be so persecuted.  And I’m tired of staying here.  And I don’t want to stay here any more.  And, Kitty darling, why shouldn’t we all go to Rome?”

“To Rome?”

“Yes.”

“Would you prefer Rome?” asked Mrs. Willoughby, thoughtfully.

“Well, yes—­for several reasons.  In the first place, I must go somewhere, and I’d rather go there than any where else.  Then, you know, that dear, delightful holy-week will soon be here, and I’m dying to be in Rome.”

“I think it would be better for all of us,” said Mrs. Willoughby, thoughtfully—­“for all of us, if we were in Rome.”

“Of course it would, Kitty sweetest, and especially me.  Now if I am in Rome, I can pop into a convent whenever I choose.”

“A convent!” exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, in surprise.

“Oh yes—­it’s going to come to that.  They’re all so horrid, you know.  Besides, it’s getting worse.  I got a letter yesterday from Captain Kirby, written to me in England.  He didn’t know I was here.  He has just arrived at London, and was leaving for our place on what he called the wings of the wind.  I expect him here at almost any time.  Isn’t it dreadful, Kitty dearest, to have so many?  As fast as one goes another comes, and then they all come together; and do you know, darling, it really makes one feel quite dizzy.  I’m sure I don’t know what to do.  And that’s why I’m thinking of a convent, you know.”

“But you’re not a Catholic.”

“Oh yes, I am, you know.  Papa’s an Anglo-Catholic, and I don’t see the difference.  Besides, they’re all the time going over to Rome; and why shouldn’t I?  I’ll be a novice—­that is, you know, I’ll only go for a time, and not take the vows.  The more I think of it, the more I see that it’s the only thing there is for me to do.”

“Well, Minnie, I really think so too, and not only for you, but for all of us.  There’s Ethel, too; poor dear girl, her health is very miserable, you know.  I think a change would do her good.”

“Of course it would; I’ve been talking to her about it.  But she won’t hear of leaving Naples.  I wish she wouldn’t be so awfully sad.”

“Oh yes; it will certainly be the best thing for dear Ethel, and for you and me and all of us.  Then we must be in Rome in holy-week.  I wouldn’t miss that for any thing.”

“And then, too, you know, Kitty darling, there’s another thing,” said Minnie, very confidentially, “and it’s very important.  In Rome, you know, all the gentlemen are clergymen—­only, you know, the clergymen of the Roman Church can’t marry; and so, you know, of course, they can never propose, no matter if they were to save one’s life over and over again.  And oh! what a relief that would be to find one’s self among those dear, darling, delightful priests, and no chance of having one’s life saved and having an instant proposal following!  It would be so charming.”