While Laurie listlessly watched the procession of priests under their canopies , white-veiled nuns bearing lighted tapers , and some brotherhood in blue chanting as they walked , Amy watched him , and felt a new sort of shyness steal over her , for he was changed , and she could not find the merry-faced boy she left in the moody-looking man beside her . He was handsomer than ever and greatly improved , she thought , but now that the flush of pleasure at meeting her was over , he looked tired and spiritless -- not sick , nor exactly unhappy , but older and graver than a year or two of prosperous life should have made him . She could n't understand it and did not venture to ask questions , so she shook her head and touched up her ponies , as the procession wound away across the arches of the Paglioni bridge and vanished in the church . `` Que pensez-vous ? '' she said , airing her French , which had improved in quantity , if not in quality , since she came abroad . `` That mademoiselle has made good use of her time , and the result is charming , '' replied Laurie , bowing with his hand on his heart and an admiring look . She blushed with pleasure , but somehow the compliment did not satisfy her like the blunt praises he used to give her at home , when he promenaded round her on festival occasions , and told her she was ` altogether jolly ' , with a hearty smile and an approving pat on the head . She did n't like the new tone , for though not blase , it sounded indifferent in spite of the look . `` If that 's the way he 's going to grow up , I wish he 'd stay a boy , '' she thought , with a curious sense of disappointment and discomfort , trying meantime to seem quite easy and gay . At Avigdor 's she found the precious home letters and , giving the reins to Laurie , read them luxuriously as they wound up the shady road between green hedges , where tea roses bloomed as freshly as in June . `` Beth is very poorly , Mother says . I often think I ought to go home , but they all say ` stay ' . So I do , for I shall never have another chance like this , '' said Amy , looking sober over one page . `` I think you are right , there . You could do nothing at home , and it is a great comfort to them to know that you are well and happy , and enjoying so much , my dear . '' He drew a little nearer , and looked more like his old self as he said that , and the fear that sometimes weighed on Amy 's heart was lightened , for the look , the act , the brotherly ` my dear ' , seemed to assure her that if any trouble did come , she would not be alone in a strange land . Presently she laughed and showed him a small sketch of Jo in her scribbling suit , with the bow rampantly erect upon her cap , and issuing from her mouth the words , ` Genius burns ! ' . Laurie smiled , took it , put it in his vest pocket ` to keep it from blowing away ' , and listened with interest to the lively letter Amy read him . `` This will be a regularly merry Christmas to me , with presents in the morning , you and letters in the afternoon , and a party at night , '' said Amy , as they alighted among the ruins of the old fort , and a flock of splendid peacocks came trooping about them , tamely waiting to be fed .
While Amy stood laughing on the bank above him as she scattered crumbs to the brilliant birds , XXXXX looked at her as she had looked at him , with a natural curiosity to see what changes time and absence had wrought .
French Jo Laurie afternoon burns left night shyness tapers year