still." Giannetto turned round suddenly "How do you know? What do you mean? Have you heard anything? Answer, Elvira !" No, no; not I. Why should I fear was left a widow very young; she toiled you? You are always good to me too for you, suffered for you, wept for you; good by far; but others- I cannot tell and indeed, indeed, she loves you why many others think you much to be dreaded. But here is Manna: she has come to take Felicità to bed; she has not been well to-day. Nino, feel her hands and her little head; they are burning! And one little cheek is so scarlet, Elvira took a thin, carefully-written letthe other so pale! All day she has been ter from her pocket: "See," she said— heavy and sleepy, and, till the pigeons "my mother has just sent me this; she came in, she has scarcely noticed any-writes a few lines herself to say that, as thing." it was directed to me, she had opened and read it. But, Nino, Nino, what is the matter? Are you ill?" "Poor little thing!" said Giannetto, kissing the upturned face; "what ails my little one?" 66 "Ah!" said the nurse, as she lifted and carried the child away, "it must be her teeth. If the signora would only let me give her some of that medicine I told her of." "No, no; put her to sleep, Manna, and give her no medicines." The nurse left the room. Giannetto had thrown himself down on a hard green sofa, and Elvira quietly seated herself on the ground beside him, holding and fondling his hand. "Nino," she began hesitatingly, "you love little Felicità very much?" "Of course I love her." "Nino, you would not like her to go away, and never see or think of you again? It would grieve you, would it not?" Giannetto started up, and snatched away his hand. "Elvira, cannot you let me alone? I know well what you mean. When will you cease to plague me on this subject? I have told you again and again that these feelings of which you speak these natural affections, as you call them are those only of an educated mind. A peasant like my mother is not thus sentimental." "But, Nino, you do not know, you cannot tell, what a mother's love is, and always must be. Educated! Why, look at the very animals, how they love their children!" 66 Giannetto had become as white as a sheet. He had at once recognized the handwriting of the priest of San Jacopo. He snatched the letter from her; it was not long, and a glance reassured him his secret was safe. As he sank back, the drops of perspiration stood on his brow. "It is nothing, nothing, Elvira," he said; "only a sudden pain. Read me the letter." Elvira was not satisfied till she had bathed his forehead with orange-flower water; and she sat fanning him with one hand while holding the letter in the other. Giannetto acquiesced, willing that she should attribute his sudden agitation to illness. This secret between himself and his wife was becoming unbearable to him. He lived in a perpetual dread lest Elvira should learn the particulars of his early history; and he felt a sort of conviction that, his secret once revealed, their severance would become inevitable. "Now, Elvira," he said, "read me the letter. I wonder why he should write to you instead of to me this time?” "Perhaps," she said, rather timidly. "perhaps some letter of yours has been lost. Indeed, so it must be; for he says they have had no news of you for very long. I will read it." She began “SIGNORA,— I feel that, without doubt, you may look upon my presuming to write Until they are grown up," said Gian-to you as a great impertinence, and that netto"till they are independent of I have scarcely a right to do so; but the them and then they throw them off. very great interest and solicitude I have Believe me, Elvira, your pity is wasted on always felt for your husband cause me to my mother. I do not wish to see her; beg for your indulgence. It is now a long she would not care to see me,-and-time since I have received any answer to and I cannot go home." my letters, and I have no news of him to Elvira sighed. After a little pause she tell to his mother, so that she is breaking said, gently, "Nino mine, do you not her heart; and for her sake I have venthink sometimes that there are duties tured to appeal to you, who are also a which should not be left undone, how-woman, and can understand better than ever painful they may be? Nino, she a man what it is to feel herself forgotten Giannetto?" she said. "It is 1," an swered her husband, with ill-concealed impatience. "That was the foolish name I always went by. I dropped it, for I hate the very sound of it." "Foolish! oh no, I like the name your mother's pet name for you." She returned to her letter by a son for whom she has toiled, and Elvira paused. "Giannetto! Who is laboured, and suffered so much. The last we heard of him was, that he had taken a wife, and that in you he had found perfect happiness. He also told us that he is not your equal in birth that you are a lady; and it appears to me possible, in that case, that you may be ashamed of the poor old peasant mother, and wish to keep her son entirely away from her. Is this true? Ah! if God has given you also a little child, you will be better able to understand what her feelings must be ; for she has been a very fond and loving mother, and for many years he was all in all to her. She grows old now, and is worn out with care and pining for him; and though you have both been very good, and sent her money constantly, she often says that could she see your husband once again, it would do her more good than all the comforts the money gives her. Can you not both come to San Jacopo? You shall be treated as becomes your position; I will see to that. Tell your husband that all his old friends and companions are well "I had no friends, no broke in Giannetto, angrily. is in his dotage!" companions," Elvira looked at him in astonishment before she resumed her reading. "And Giannetto was as dear to me as any son could be to his father; so that, in addressing his wife, I feel as if I must know her already. If it be in your power, then, let Giannetto come back to his mother, not to stay I know well, and have explained to her, the different sphere of society to which he has attained. We would not for the world that he should give up his new pursuits, companions, or friends. Only this I ask — and further, I am bold enough to demand, as a Christian priest - that he should now and then remember that he is the only son of his mother, and she is a widow." The letter dropped from Elvira's hand, and she turned her brown, wistful eyes on her husband. He did not speak. "It is a touching letter, Nino. The poor mother must have suffered very much. Is it quite impossible that, when we leave Venice, we should go to San Jacopo? only for a few days - for one 66 Giannetto leapt off the sofa, and paced up and down the room. Elvira," he said, his face full of keen distress, "listen to what I say. What you ask is an impossibility. I cannot, and I will not, return there. I cannot tell you why-it concerns myself alone; but, Elvira, trust me, it is a sufficient reason. There are some things in which a wife must trust her husband implicitly without striving to understand them, and this is one of them." "Tell him also that, should he come, they will all welcome him warmly. Sev-day even?" eral changes have taken place. Pietro's wife is dead, the good Baldovinetta; and he has married again, old Masaniello's youngest daughter, whom we used to call brutta e buona,' and she makes him an excellent wife. Tonino has been apprenticed to Andrea Castagno, and is a clever lad. Andrea kept on the new boat after his father's death in the great storm, though he was but sixteen at the time; and, by the blessing of San Jacopo, he has succeeded very well. I have employed the last sum of money your husband sent in buying for Carola that large vigna behind the place where old Nicolo's Giannetto stamped on the ground in cottage stood, that was washed away; real anger. "Elvira, do not go on like and she hires his son, Ceccho, to culti-this. You do not know what you are vate it, and keeps a mule of her own. It talking of. I will take care that that is her one happiness to think that all¦meddling priest does not come between these riches came from her beloved son; you and me." but one moment's sight of him in his own person would be the richest gift he could bestow upon her and she wearies Madonna to grant her this blessing. Dear signora, forgive me if I take too great a liberty in thus addressing you; but I also am growing old and infirm, and Giannetto "And the poor mother?" murmured Elvira. "Stop, stop, Giannetto," she cried, rising from the ground and clasping her hands; "do not say what you will repent of as soon as said. I will say no more, I promise you; but oh, Nino "You will say no more; you have passed your word?" "Nino! Nino !" 29 "Oh, fly, fly for a doctor! Call any one-only be quick! be quick! or she "It is a promise," he repeated, dis-[ tinctly. Giannetto took up the letter, tore will die!" it into a thousand pieces, and tossed them out of the window. Elvira covered her face with her hands, bitter tears forcing themselves through her clasped fingers. Giannetto stood and looked at her wistfully. After a few moments she pushed back the masses of dark hair from her brow, and came up to his side, raising her sweet face to be kissed. He clasped her suddenly to him. "Elvira ! Elvira ! if I only could if I only dared He stopped, the full consequences of what he might say flashing upon him. But, Elvira, you will trust me; you at least, will always trust me ? "" 66 "With my whole heart, Nino," she answered. "God will direct you aright. I will have faith in you. You are cold, Nino; you shiver." "No, no; it is nothing-only that pain again." Both their hearts were heavy that night. Giannetto came home late from the opera. After all was over, he had rowed far out to sea, striving to regain calmness. He had been singing magnificently. Applause resounded through the theatre, and from every side bouquets fell upon the stage. The heat was intense, but the house was crowded. But as he came off the stage, he could not help observing that, even while congratulating him, his fellow-actors shrank from him, and whispered behind his back. He felt very sore and aggrieved. And there was this ever-present trouble, too, between himself and his wife. It was all very hard to bear. Weary and heartsick, he threw himself on his bed, and sank into the heavy sleep of exhausted nature. Elvira, after he left her for the theatre, stole quietly away to her child. She dismissed the nurse, and sat watching it far into the hot summer night. CHAPTER VIII. Elvira hastened away swiftly as she had come. Giannetto dressed himself hurriedly, and followed her to the room where the child lay. Terrible was the shock that awaited him. The little one lay in Elvira's lap, passing from one convulsion into another. None could have recognized in that face, so distorted and changed, the sweet calm of little Felicità. Elvira looked up, almost wild in her anxiety. "Not gone yet! Nino, Nino, every moment is an hour! - not yet! Manna, you go! quick! we may yet save her; you know of some doctor? Oh, go! go!" Manna, who had been kneeling by the child, sprang to her feet and rushed from the room, leaving the father and mother alone. Elvira did not speak, but now and then a little moan came from her lips. Giannetto sat down, drawing his chair forward, and looking down on the child. "Elvira," he said hoarsely, "will she die? is she going to die?" Her sole answer was to raise her eyes to his with a look of agony. They sat watching — how long they knew not; it seemed a year, though in reality but a few minutes. An old doctor was living in an upper apartment in the palazzo, and to him Manna and the landlady went. He came at once; and in five minutes the little one was placed in a warm bath, and for the time the danger was over. For hours they sat and watched. The little face regained its soft calm, the tossing limbs grew still, and she sank into a sweet calm sleep. They wrapped her in warm blankets and laid her on her bed. The doctor felt her pulse; it was even now, but for an occasional wild throb. He turned to Elvira and said, “She will do well now, if I mistake not; but give her the medicine I send you as often as you can." He was going, but Elvira stopped him. "Pardon me," she said, "but tell me the real truth will she die?" 1 ABOUT four o'clock in the morning, the violent ringing of a bell echoed through the Palazzo Lucchetti, and Giannetto was The old doctor looked at her very comaroused by a light gleaming in his face. passionately. "Poor signora," he said, Elvira, white and terrified, stood beside"you must not hope too much. I have him. Nino, Nino, get up! quick, never seen a more violent attack; and if quick! there is no time to lose! The it comes again child is ill. Oh, Nino! I fear she is dy-shoulders. ing!" 66 ,, He shrugged his Every trace of colour fled out of Elvi Giannetto sprang out of bed. "What ra's face and lips, and she grasped Giạnis it, Elvira ? ̈ ́What must I do?” netto's arm to support herself. "Why tell her this?" he exclaimed, passionately. "Why should you make it worse by telling her beforehand?" The doctor looked rather displeased. "Some say tell,' some 'conceal.' I, for my part, speak the truth when I am asked; and you, sir, should have the complaisance to hear me finish what I have to say. If, by giving the proper medicines, and having a warm bath always ready, you can keep off the attacks, well; if not not waste her strength. Giannetto was so restless that she persuaded him to go out when mid-day had passed. The doctor came in constantly. Elvira believed that all was going on well; but he did not like the heavy sleep of the child, and often desired it to be roused, to swallow medicine. Evening came again; the sun went down in a bath of liquid fire, and fierce rays of dark crimson streaked the sky, still purple with glowing heat. 66 The landlady knew only too well whom and what he meant. Down she went, on to the steps at the door, and hastily called to a gondolier. He took off his spectacles, beginning Giannetto came softly in. "How is to wipe them with his large blue handker- she? how is she doing now?" he whischief. Giannetto sat down again mood-pered. "Just the same. Thank God for ily. With a deep bow, which all were this long sweet sleep!" too much preoccupied to acknowledge, Elvira moved slowly to the little bed. the doctor quitted the room. As she gazed, a look of horror came over They heard him speaking outside to a lit- her face- the convulsions had returned. tle group of servants and lodgers, drawn" Nino! Manna! it has come again ! — together by sympathy and curiosity, head-quick! fly!" Giannetto flew up-stairs ed by the padrona or landlady. "It is a bad for the doctor; Manna brought forward case, Signora Padrona- a bad case; and the bath. The doctor, as he came hastily I fear me they will lose their child. The down, called out, Signora Padrona first child, you say? It is a pity; but it signora, quick! send for him at once," is the will of heaven. If the convul- and he followed Giannetto into the room. sions come on again, for the love of heaven, Signora Padrona, have a priest in the way with the holy unction; for they are frightfully violent, and the child is very weak. Was there no one to tell them to put it in hot water at once? What fools people are! and the women in especial! But it is too true. The mother is very young, and it is a first child. A thousand thanks, signora; no wine, but I would take a cup of coffee "Padre! padre!" she shouted, at the with cognac. A thousand thanks. With utmost pitch of her shrill Italian voice. permission, I will wait here, and will" Padre! for the love of God!" snatch a moment's sleep I cannot find it in my heart to go up-stairs. Ah! there is the coffee - none in Venice like yours, Signora Padrona. It is now striking the six hours. Well, wel, I will take a little more repose." And the rough but kindly old doctor stretched himself on a couple of hard old-fashioned chairs. The day came on, and grew into a fierce glare of heat, and still the little one slept. The blinds were drawn down, and kept constantly wetted by Manna with cold water; and a huge block of ice sent in by the landlady helped to keep the room comparatively cool. She was just about to step off the stairs, when another gondola came gliding swiftly round the corner, under the canopy of which, with his hands folded in his habit, sat the stern, upright figure of a Franciscan monk. The friar started from his apparent reverie. "Stop," he said to the gondolier. "I am wanted." The landlady bent forward,—“Father," she repeated, "if you are a priest, come income in at once. A child is dying the only child of Giovanni, the great singer." The friar stepped out of his gondola, and followed the kind-hearted woman, as, breathless and almost sobbing, she hastened up the stairs. "It is the hand of God," he muttered to himself. On they went, through the long suite of cool rooms, across the gallery at the end, into the sick-chamber. One single glance was enough - they were too late. All day Elvira sat at the foot of the bed, little simple books of devotion by her side, which now and then she took up. She could only read a few lines at a The room was full of people. Elvira time, but they suggested thoughts on sat upon the floor with the child on her which she strove to fix her mind. When lap. Manna had lifted it out of the bath, Manna brought her food, she ate it me- and placed it there; and, all unheeded, chanically, for she knew that she must the water was dripping from its soft brown hair. As if turned to stone, the mother's eyes were fixed upon the tiny corpse. Manna's sobs rang through the room; the others, mere spectators of the scene, lodgers and servants in the house, stood close round, and now and then one of them spoke a gentle word of sympathy. Giannetto remained motionless, with his arms folded, as he had stood to watch his child die. This was the scene that met their eyes as the door opened. All made way involuntarily as Fra Geronimo (for he it was) entered. All knelt when he approached all but one, the unhappy father, who, as the first sacred words broke the silence, stole away, crouching, creeping, cringing, as the voice of prayer upraised itself to heaven. Outside the door he stood, alone, an outcast from God and man. They removed Elvira from the room. Gently, tenderly they carried her away, and laid her on the green couch in the large empty room. She was not insensible, but she lay stunned and tearless, without moving, where they placed her. They threw the window wide open and let in the evening air; one little ray still lingered from the dying sunset, and checkered the polished floor. They sought for Giannetto, and sent him to her there. The friar was gone. He knew that this was not his time that for his work patience was needed. Giannetto stole in, and sat clasping his wife's hand, which lay in his quite cold and motionless. Peck, peck, peck! what was that? and then that soft-sounding cooing? Motionless they watched. One by one, pluming their soft wings, billing and cooing to each other, the pigeons of St. Mark came gently in. They looked for the tiny hand that had fed them, for the little one that had loved them so well. Peck, peck there was no bread today. Was it only imaginary that the cooing voices took a wondering sound? They came closer, turning their pearly heads from side to side, passing in and out of the dying ray of light. Elvira suddenly started forward and burst into a wild fit of hysterical weeping. With a loud whir of terror, the pigeons flew away. The storm of grief let loose seemed to shake her from head to foot; her selfcommand had given way, and she knew not what she said. Clinging, holding on to Giannetto, she poured out the agony of her grief; now imploring him to tell her what the secret was that kept them apart, now telling him that she could and would trust him, but he must not look at her like that, not be angry with her; for her child was dead, and there was nothing left to her but him. Then she would call upon the child, calling her her comfort, her only hope for Nino's conversion. Fits of exhaustion followed, but the slightest word brought back the flood of agony. So through the long, long night, till another morning dawned. Then Giannetto took his pale wife by the hand, and led her from the chamber. She let him do what he wished with her, following him whither he would. Down the silent canals they passed, crossed the piazza of St. Mark, to the door of the great cathedral. “Go in,” he murmured hoarsely; and she obeyed. Compared to the outer air it was dark, but she saw at once what her eyes mechanically sought. Before the high altar stood a little bier, covered by a pall as white as driven snow; wreaths of lovely flowers lay round and upon it, not all white, but red, and purple, and gold, glowing with colours, typical of that glory to which the child had attained. Elvira sank upon her knees, and her heart rose up in fervent prayer. In a far corner of the cathedral, where it was all dark and in shadow, knelt the Franciscan, pale from fasting, exhausted. by the vigils of a long night, in which, in pain and penance, he had been wrestling for a fallen soul. CHAPTER IX. "I AM sure we shall be too early, John," said Amy to her husband. "Nonsense, Amy; we are not in London. Remember how early Roman hours are." They were driving up to the door of a house in Rome one evening on which some English friends had a large party. It was a soft oppressive evening; the sirocco had been blowing all day, making the air heavy and languid. They drove rattling under the covered doorway, the heavy Roman carriage-horses stopping with a suddenness which threw Amy forward. "How I hate that way of stopping!" she exclaimed, as she shook out her ruffled plumes, and followed the porter upstairs. The room in which the lady of the house received her guests was pretty and peculiar. It had often been used for private theatricals, and possessed a recess |