"But I must do the girl the justice to say
that she never gave him the slightest
encouragement; and "that, whenever he ventured
to speak to her, she always quietly, but very
decidedly repelled him."

"A good girl! " said Father Rocco. " I
always said she was a good girl. It was a
mistake on my part ever to have distrusted
her."

"Among the other offences," continued the
little man, " of which I now find my scoundrel
of an apprentice to have been guilty, was the
enormity of picking the lock of my desk, and
prying into my private papers."

"You ought not to have had any. Private
papers should always be burnt papers."

"They shall be for the future; I will take
good care of that."

"Were any of my letters to you about
Nanina among these private papers ?"

"Unfortunately, there were. Pray, pray,
excuse my want of caution this time. It shall
never happen again."

"Go on. Such imprudence as yours can
never be excused; it can only be provided
against for the future. I suppose the apprentice
showed my letters to the girl?"

"I infer as much; though why he should
do so— "

"Simpleton! Did you not say that he was
in love with her (as you term it), and that he
got no encouragement ?"

"Yes: I said that and I know it to be
true."

"Well! Was it not his interest, being
unable to make any impression on the girl's
fancy, to establish some claim to her
gratitude; and try if he could not win her that
way ?  By showing her my letters, he would
make her indebted to him for knowing that
she was watched in your house. But this is
not the matter in question now. You say
you infer that she had seen my letters. On
what grounds?"

"On the strength of this bit of paper,"
answered the little man, ruefully producing
a note from his pocket. " She must have had
your letters shown to her soon after putting
her own letter into the post. For, on the
evening of the same day, when I went up
into her room, I found that she and her sister
and the disagreeable dog had all gone, and
observed this note laid on the table."

Father Rocco took the note, and read these
lines:

"I have just discovered that I have been watched
and suspected ever since my stay under your roof. It
is impossible that I can remain another night in the
house of a spy. I go with my sister. We owe you
nothing, and we are free to live honestly where we
please. If you see Father Rocco, tell him that I can
forgive his distrust of me, but that I can never forget
it. I, who had full faith in him, had a right to expect
that he should have full faith in me. It was always
an encouragement to me to think of him us a father
and a friend. I have lost that encouragement for ever
—and it was the last I had left to me!

                                                                 "NANINA."

The priest rose from his seat as he handed
the note back, and the visitor immediately
followed his example.

"We must remedy this misfortune as we
best may," he said, with a sigh. " Are you
ready to go back to Florence to-morrow ?"

Tne little man bowed again.

"Find out where she is, and ascertain if she
wants for anything, and if she is living in a
safe place. Say nothing about me, and make
no attempt to induce her to return to your
house. Simply let me know what you
discover. The poor child has a spirit that no
ordinary people would suspect in her. She
must be soothed and treated tenderly, and
we shall manage her yet. No mistakes,
mind, this time! Do just what I tell you,
and do no more. Have you anything else to
say to me?"

The little man shook his head and shrugged
his shoulders.

"Good night, then," said the priest.

"Good night," said the little man, slipping
through the door that was held open for him
with the politest alacrity.

"This is vexatious," said Father Rocco,
taking a turn or two in the study after his
visitor had gone. " It was bad to have done
the child an injustice—it is worse to have
been found out. There is nothing for it now
but to wait till I know where she is. I like
her, and I like that note she left behind her.
It is bravely, delicately, and honestly written
—a good girl—a very good girl indeed!"

He walked to the window, breathed the
fresh air for a few moments, and quietly
dismissed the subject from his mind. When he
returned to his table, he had no thoughts for
any one but his sick niece.

"It seems strange," he said, "that I have
had no message about her yet. Perhaps Luca
has heard something? It may be well if I
go to the studio at once to find out."

He took up his hat and went to the door.
Just as he opened it, Fabio's servant
confronted him on the threshold.

"I am sent to summon you to the palace,"
said the man. " The doctors have given up
all hope."

Father Rocco turned deadly pale, and drew
back a step. " Have you told my brother of
this ? " he asked.

"I was just on my way to the studio,"
answered the servant.

"I will go there instead of you, and break
the bad news to him," said the priest.

They descended the stairs in silence. Just
as they were about to separate at the street-
door, Father Rocco stopped the servant.

"How is the child? " he asked, with such
sudden eagerness and impatience that the
man looked quite startled as he answered
that the child was perfectly well.

"There is some  consolation in that," said
Father Rocco, walking away, and speaking
partly to the servant, partly to himself.
"My caution has misled me," he continued,