produced by the sight of the weird figure in
the yellow mask, which she had left standing
alone with Fabio in the palace corridor. The
morning light, however, suggested new
thoughts. She now opened the note which
the young nobleman had pressed into her
hand, and read the hurried pencil lines
scrawled on the paper, over and over again.
Could there be any harm, any forgetfulness of
her own duty, in using the key enclosed in the
note, and keeping her appointment in the
Ascoli gardens at ten o'clock? Surely not
—surely the last sentence he had written—
"Believe in my truth and honour, Nanina, for
I believe implicitly in yours" — was enough to
satisfy her, this time, that she could not be
doing wrong in listening for once to the
pleading of her own heart. And, besides,
there, in her lap, lay the key of the wicket-
gate. It was absolutely necessary to use that,
if only for the purpose of giving it back safely
into the hands of its owner.

As this last thought was passing through
her mind, and plausibly overcoming any
faint doubts and difficulties which she might
still have felt, she was startled by a sudden
knocking at the street-door; and, looking out
of window immediately, saw a man in livery
standing in the street, anxiously peering up.
at the house to see if his knocking had aroused
anybody.

"Does Marta Angrisani, the sick-nurse,
live here '? " inquired the man, as soon as
Nanina showed herself at the window.

"Yes," she answered. " Must I call her
up ? Is there some person ill ? "

"Call her up directly," said the servant.
"She is wanted at the Ascoli Palace. My
master, Count Fabio —-"

Nanina waited to hear no more. She flew
to the room in which the sick-nurse slept,
and awoke her, almost roughly, in an instant.

"He is ill! " she cried, breathlessly.
"Oh, make haste — make haste! he is ill, and
he has sent for you!"

Marta inquired who had sent for her;
and, on being informed, promised to lose no
time. Nanina ran downstairs to tell the
servant that the sick-nurse was getting on
her clothes. The man's serious expression,
when she came close to him, terrified her.
All her usual self-distrust vanished; and she
entreated him, without attempting to conceal
her anxiety, to tell her particularly what his
master's illness was, and how it had affected
him so suddenly after the ball.

"I know nothing about it," answered the
man, noticing Nanina's manner as she put
her question, with some surprise; " except
that my master was brought home by two
gentlemen, friends of his, about a couple of
hours ago, in a very sad state; half out of
his mind, as it seemed to me. I gathered
from what was said, that he had got a dreadful
shock from seeing some woman take off
her mask and show her face to him at the
ball. How that could be I don't in the least
understand; but I know that when the
doctor was sent for, he looked very serious, and
talked about fearing brain fever."

Here the servant stopped; for, to his
astonishment, he saw Nanina suddenly turn
away from him, and then heard her crying
bitterly as she went back into the house.

Marta Angrisani had huddled on her
clothes, and was looking at herself in the
glass, to see that she was sufficiently
presentable to appear at the palace, when she
felt two arms flung round her neck; and,
before she could say a word, found Nanina
sobbing on her bosom.

"He is ill — he is in danger! " cried the girl.
"I must go with you to help him. You
have always been kind to me, Marta—be
kinder than ever now. Take me with you!
Take me with you to the palace!"

"You, child! " exclaimed the nurse,
gently unclasping her arms.

"Yes — yes! if it is only for an hour,"
pleaded Nanina — " if it is only for one little
hour every day. You have only to say that I
am your helper, and they would let me in.
Marta! I shall break my heart if I can't see
him now, and help him to get well again."

The nurse still hesitated. Nanina clasped
her round the neck once more, and laid her
cheek — burning hot now, though the tears
had been streaming down it but an instant
before — close to the good woman's face.

"I love him, Marta — great as he is, I love
him with all my heart and soul and
strength," she went on, in quick, eager,
whispering tones. " And he loves me. He
would have married me if I had not gone
away to save him from it. I could keep my
love for him a secret while he was well—I
could stifle it, and crush it down, and wither
it up by absence. But now he is ill, it gets
beyond me; I can't master it. Oh, Marta!
don't break my heart by denying me! I have
suffered so much for his sake that I have
earned the right to nurse him!"

Marta was not proof against this last
appeal. She had one great and rare merit
for a middle-aged woman — she had not
forgotten her own youth.

"Come child," said she, soothingly. " I
won't attempt to deny you. Dry your eyes,
put on your mantilla, and, when we get face
to face with the doctor, try to look as old
and ugly as you can, if you want to be let
into the sick-room along with me."

The ordeal of medical scrutiny was passed
more easily than Marta Angrisani had
anticipated. It was of great importance, in the
doctor's opinion, that the sick man should
see familiar faces at his bedside. Nanina had
only, therefore, to state that he knew her
well, and that she had sat to him as a model
in the days when he was learning the art of
sculpture, to be immediately accepted as
Marta's privileged assistant in the sick-room.

The worst apprehensions felt by the doctor
for the patient, were soon realised. The fever