of
goodness and virtue. She died young."

Ferrari glanced at me with an evil sneer in his eyes.

"That was fortunate," he said. "She had no time to tire of her husband,
else--who knows?"

My blood rose rapidly to an astonishing heat, but I controlled myself.

"I do not understand you," I said, with marked frigidity. "The lady I
speak of lived and died under the old regime of noblesse oblige. I am
not so well versed in modern social forms of morality as yourself."

Nina hastily interposed. "Oh, my dear conte," she said, laughingly,
"pay no attention to Signor Ferrari! He is rash sometimes, and says
very foolish things, but he really does not mean them. It is only his
way! My poor dear husband used to be quite vexed with him sometimes,
though he WAS so fond of him. But, conte, as you know so much about the
family, I am sure you will like to see my little Stella. Shall I send
for her, or are you bored by children?"

"On the contrary, madame, I am fond of them," I answered, with forced
composure, though my heart throbbed with mingled delight and agony at
the thought of seeing my little one again. "And the child of my old
friend's son must needs have a double interest for me."

My wife rang the bell, and gave orders to the maid who answered it to
send her little girl to her at once. Ferrari meanwhile engaged me in
conversation, and strove, I could see, by entire deference to my
opinions, to make up for any offense his previous remark might have
given. A few moments passed--and then the handle of the drawing-room
door was timidly turned by an evidently faltering and unpracticed hand.
Nina called out impatiently--"Come in, baby! Do not be afraid--come
in!" With that the door slowly opened and my little daughter entered.
Though I had been so short a time absent from her it was easy to see
the child had changed very much. Her face looked pinched and
woe-begone, its expression was one of fear and distrust. The laughter
had faded out of her young eyes, and was replaced by a serious look of
pained resignation that was pitiful to see in one of her tender years.
Her mouth drooped plaintively at the corners--her whole demeanor had an
appealing anxiety in it that spoke plainly to my soul and enlightened
me as to the way she had evidently been forgotten and neglected. She
approached us hesitatingly, but stopped half-way and looked doubtfully
at Ferrari. He met her alarmed gaze with a mocking smile.

"Come along, Stella!" he sai