ng, as well as curiosity and
admiration) smiled in her turn, and responded, "Good afternoon."

"You enjoy a fine view from here," the old lady remarked, ducking her
sunshade in the direction of the valley.

"A beautiful view," agreed Maria Dolores, following the sunshade with
her eyes.

Those of the stranger had a gleam. "But don't you think, if the
unvarnished truth may be whispered, that it's becoming the merest trifle
too hot?" she suggested.

Maria Dolores lightly laughed. "I think it is decidedly too hot," she
said.

"I'm glad to find we're of the same opinion," declared the old lady,
fanning herself. "You can positively _see_ the heat vibrating there in
the distance. We children of the North should fly such weather. For my
part, I'm off to-morrow for England, where I can shiver through the
summer comfortably in my chimney-corner."

Maria Dolores laughed out again.

"So I've driven over from Roccadoro," the newcomer continued, "to have a
farewell look at a young man of my acquaintance who's staying here. I
dare say you may know him. He has blue eyes and a red beard, a
flattering manner and a pretty wit, and his name is Blanchemain."

"Oh?" said Maria Dolores, her eyebrows going up. "Is that his name? You
mean the young Englishman who lives with the parroco?"

The old lady's eyebrows, which were thick and dark, went up too.

"Is it possible you didn't know his name?" was her surprised
ejaculation. Then she said, "I wonder whether he is anywhere about?"

"I fancy he's asleep," said Maria Dolores.

"Asleep? At this hour?" The dark eyebrows frowned their protest. "That
sounds like a sad slugabed."

Maria Dolores looked serious. "He was up all night. We have a child ill
here, and he was up all night, watching."

The stranger's grey eyes filled with concern and sympathy. "I hope, I'm
sure, it's not that pretty little girl, the niece of the parroco?" she
said.

"Unhappily, it is," said Maria Dolores. "She has been very ill indeed."

"I am extremely sorry to hear it, extremely sorry," the old lady
declared, with feeling. "If I can be of any sort of use--if I can send
anything--or in any way help--" Her eyes completed the offer.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," replied Maria Dolores. "You are most kind,
but I don't think there is anything any one can do. Besides, she is on
the mend now, we hope. The doctor says the worst is probably over."

"Well, thank God for that," exclaimed the visitor, with a will. Sh