In the house in Padua the first concern of the Greysteels and their servants was to make Mrs Strange as comfortable as they could; and each had his or her own way of doing it. Dr Greysteel’s comfort chiefly took a philosophical form. He searched his memory for examples from history of people – particularly ladies – who had triumphed over adverse circumstances, often with the help of their friends. Minichello and Frank, the two manservants, ran to open doors for her – often whether she wanted to go through them or not. Bonifazia, the maid, preferred to treat a year’s sojourn in Faerie as if it had been rather a severe sort of cold and brought her strengthening cordials throughout the day. Aunt Greysteel sent all over the town for the best wines and the rarest delicacies; and she purchased the softest, down-filled cushions and pillows, as if she hoped that by laying her head on them Arabella might be induced to forget all that had happened to her. But of all the various sorts of consolation that were offered her, that which seemed to suit Arabella best was Flora’s company and Flora’s conversation.

One morning they were sitting together at their needlework. Arabella put down her work with a gesture of impatience and went to the window. “There is a spirit of restlessness upon me,” she said.

“It is to be expected,” said Flora, gently. “Be patient. In time your spirits will be what they were before.”

“Will they?” said Arabella, with a sigh. “Truth to own, I really do not remember what I was like before.”

“Then I will tell you. You were always cheerful – tho’ often left to your own devices. You were hardly ever out of temper – tho’ often severely provoked. Your every speech was remarkable for its wit and genius – tho’ you got no credit for it and almost always received a flat contradiction.”

Arabella laughed. “Good Heavens! What a prodigy I was! But,” she said with a wry look, “I am not inclined to put much trust in this portrait, since you never saw me.”

“Mr Strange told me. Those are his words.”

“Oh!” said Arabella. She turned her face away.

Flora cast her eyes down and said softly, “When he returns, he will do more to restore you to yourself than any one else could. You will be happy again.” She glanced up.

Arabella was silent for a moment. She said, “I am not sure that we will see each other again.”

Flora took up her needlework again. After a moment she said, “It is very odd that he should have gone back to his old master at last.”

“Is it? There seems nothing very extraordinary in it to me. I never thought the quarrel would last as long as it did. I thought they would have been friends again by the end of the first month.”