pausing thoughtfully when he was left alone
in the roadway. "I should have risked using
tho mother's influence sooner to procure the
righteous restitution. All hope of compassing
it now rests on the life of the child. Infant
as she is, her father's ill-gotten wealth may
yet be gathered back to the church by her
hands."

He proceeded rapidly on his way to the
studio, until he reached the river-side and
drew close to the bridge which it was necessary
to cross in order to get to his brother's
house. Here he stopped abruptly, as if
struck by a sudden idea. The moon had just
risen, and her light, streaming across the
river, fell full upon his face as he stood by
the parapet-wall that led up to the bridge.
He was so lost in thought that he did not
hear the conversation of two ladies who
were advancing along the pathway close
behind him. As they brushed by him, the
taller of the two turned round and looked
back at his face.

"Father Rocco! " exclaimed the lady,
stopping.

"Donna Brigida! " cried the priest, looking
surprised at first, but recovering himself
directly, and bowing with his usual quiet
politeness. " Pardon me if I thank you for
honouring me by renewing our acquaintance,
and then pass on to my brother's studio. A
heavy affliction is likely to befal us, and I go
to prepare him for it."

'' You refer to the dangerous illness of your
niece? " said Brigida. " I heard of it this
evening. Let us hope that your fears are
exaggerated, and that we may yet meet under
less distressing circumstances. I have no
present intention of leaving Pisa for some
time, and I shall always be glad to thank
Father Rocco for the politeness and consideration
which he showed to me, under delicate
circumstances, a year ago."

"With these words she curtseyed deferentially,
and moved away to rejoin her friend.
The priest observed that Mademoiselle
Virginie lingered rather near, as if anxious
to catch a few words of the conversation
between Brigida and himself. Seeing this,
he, in his turn, listened as the two women
slowly walked away together, and heard the
Italian say to her companion—

"Virginie, I will lay you the price of a
new dress that Fabio d'Ascoli marries again."

Father Rocco started when she said those
words as if he had trodden on fire.

' My thought! " he whispered nervously
to himself. "My thought at the moment when
she spoke to me! Marry again? Another
wife, over whom I should have no influence!
Other children, whose education would
not be confided to me! What would become,
then, of the restitution that I have hoped
for, wrought for, prayed for ?"

He stopped, and looked fixedly at the
sky above him. The bridge was deserted.
His black figure rose up erect, motionless,
and spectral, with the white still light falling
solemnly all around it. Standing so for
some minutes, his first movement was to
drop his hand angrily on the parapet of the
bridge. He then turned round slowly in the
direction by which the two women had
walked away.

"Donna Brigida," he said, "I will lay you
the price of fifty new dresses that Fabio
d'Ascoli never marries again!"

He set his face once more towards the
studio, and walked on without stopping until
he arrived at the master-sculptor's door.

"Marry again ? " he thought to himself as
he rang the bell: " Donna Brigida, was your
first failure not enough for you? Are you
going to try a second time?"

Luca Lomi himself opened the door. He
drew Father Rocco hurriedly into the studio,
towards a single lamp burning on a stand
near the partition between the two rooms.

"Have you heard anything of our poor
child? " he asked. " Tell me the truth!
—tell me the truth at once!"

"Hush! compose yourself. I have heard,"
said Father Rocco, in low, mournful tones.

Luca tightened his hold on the priest's
arm, and looked into his face with
breathless, speechless eagerness.

"Compose yourself," repeated Father Rocco.
"Compose yourself to hear the worst. My
poor Luca, the doctors have given up all
hope."

Luca dropped his brother's arm with a
groan of despair " Oh, Maddalena! my
child—my only child!"

Reiterating these words again and again,
he leaned his head against the partition and
burst into tears. Sordid and coarse as his
nature was, he really loved his daughter.
All the heart he had was in his statues and
in her.

After the first burst of his grief was
exhausted, he was recalled to himself by a
sensation as if some change had taken place
in the lighting of the studio. He looked up
directly, and dimly discerned the priest
standing far down at the end of the room
nearest the door, with the lamp in his hand,
eagerly looking at something.

"Rocco! " he exclaimed —" Rocco! why
have you taken the lamp away?  What are
you doing there?"

There was no movement and no answer.
Luca advanced a step or two, and called
again—" Rocco, what are you doing there ?"

The priest heard this time, and came suddenly
towards his brother with the lamp in
his hand—so suddenly that Luca started.

"What is it ? " he asked, in astonishment.
"Gracious God! Rocco, how pale you are!"

Still the priest never said a word. He
put the lamp down on the nearest table.
Luca observed that his hand shook. He
had never seen his brother violently agitated
before. When Rocco had announced, but a
few minutes ago, that Maddalena's life was