ce to himself, to go to bed.

Ten minutes later, the landlady, on her way to bed, ascended the stairs.
She too heard the voice, still reading aloud--and tapped softly at the
door. Teresa opened it.

"Is the poor thing not asleep yet?"

"No."

"Has she been disturbed in some way?"

"Somebody has been walking about, overhead," Teresa answered.

"That's the new lodger!" exclaimed the landlady. "I'll speak to Mr. Le
Frank."

On the point of closing the door, and saying good-night, Teresa stopped,
and considered for a moment.

"Is he your new lodger?" she said.

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"I saw him when I was last in England."

"Well?"

"Nothing more," Teresa answered. "Good-night!"

CHAPTER LII.

Watching through the night by Carmina's bedside, Teresa found herself
thinking of Mr. Le Frank. It was one way of getting through the weary
time, to guess at the motive which had led him to become a lodger in the
house.

Common probabilities pointed to the inference that he might have reasons
for changing his residence, which only concerned himself. But common
probabilities--from Teresa's point of view--did not apply to Mr. Le
Frank. On meeting him, at the time of her last visit to England, his
personal appearance had produced such a disagreeable impression on her,
that she had even told Carmina "the music-master looked like a rogue."
With her former prejudice against him now revived, and with her serious
present reasons for distrusting Mrs. Gallilee, she rejected the idea
of his accidental presence under her landlady's roof. To her mind, the
business of the new lodger in the house was, in all likelihood, the
business of a spy.

While Mr. Le Frank was warily laying his plans for the next day, he had
himself become an object of suspicion to the very woman whose secrets he
was plotting to surprise.

This was the longest and saddest night which the faithful old nurse had
passed at her darling's bedside.

For the first time, Carmina was fretful, and hard to please: patient
persuasion was needed to induce her to take her medicine. Even when she
was thirsty, she had an irritable objection to being disturbed, if the
lemonade was offered to her which she had relished at other times. Once
or twice, when she drowsily stirred in her bed, she showed symptoms of
delusion. The poor girl supposed it was the eve or her wedding-day, and
eagerly asked what Teresa had done with her new dress. A little later,
when she ha