e smiled a pale uneasy smile, and pressed my hand. These were our last
words, for with a warning shriek the train moved off, and in another
minute had rushed out of sight. I was alone--alone with perfect freedom
of action--I could do as I pleased with my wife now! I could even kill
her if I chose--no one would interfere. I could visit her that evening
and declare myself to her--could accuse her of her infidelity and stab
her to the heart! Any Italian jury would find "extenuating
circumstances" for me. But why? Why should I lay myself open to a
charge of murder, even for a just cause? No! my original design was
perfect, and I must keep to it and work it out with patience, though
patience was difficult. While I thus meditated, walking from the
station homeward, I was startled by the unexpected appearance of my
valet, who came upon me quite suddenly. He was out of breath with
running, and he carried a note for me marked "Immediate." It was from
my wife, and ran briefly thus:

"Please come at once. Stella is very ill, and asks for you."

"Who brought this?" I demanded, quickening my pace, and signing to
Vincenzo to keep beside me.

"The old man, eccellenza--Giacomo. He was weeping and in great
trouble--he said the little donzella had the fever in her throat--it is
the diphtheria he means, I think. She was taken ill in the middle of
the night, but the nurse thought it was nothing serious. This morning
she has been getting worse, and is in danger."

"A doctor has been sent for, of course?"

"Yes, eccellenza. So Giacomo said. But--"

"But WHAT?" I asked, quickly.

"Nothing, eccellenza! Only the old man said the doctor had come too
late."

My heart sunk heavily, and a sob rose in my throat. I stopped in my
rapid walk and bade Vincenzo call a carriage, one of the ordinary
vehicles that are everywhere standing about for hire in the principal
thoroughfares of Naples. I sprung into this and told the driver to take
me as quickly as possible to the Villa Romani, and adding to Vincenzo
that I should not return to the hotel all day, I was soon rattling
along the uphill road. On my arrival at the villa I found the gates
open, as though in expectation of my visit, and as I approached the
entrance door of the house, Giacomo himself met me.

"How is the child?" I asked him eagerly.

He made no reply, but shook his head gravely, and pointed to a kindly
looking man who was at that moment descending the stairs--a man whom I
insta