couple of minutes more he had left the house,
and a young maid-servant showed me to the nursery.

"Where is the contessa?" I asked in a whisper, as I trod softly up the
stairs.

"The contessa?" said the girl, opening her eyes in astonishment. "In
her own bedroom, eccellenza--madama would not think of leaving it;
because of the danger of infection." I smothered a rough oath that
roses involuntarily to my lips. Another proof of the woman's utter
heartlessness, I thought!

"Has she not seen her child?"

"Since the illness? Oh, no, eccellenza!"

Very gently and on tiptoe I entered the nursery. The blinds were
partially drawn as the strong light worried the child, and by the
little white bed sat Assunta, her brown face pale and almost rigid with
anxiety. At my approach she raised her eyes to mine, muttering softly:

"It is always so. Our Lady will have the best of all, first the father,
then the child; it is right and just--only the bad are left."

"Papa!" moaned a little voice feebly, and Stella sat up among her
tumbled pillows, with wide-opened wild eyes, feverish cheeks, and
parted lips through which the breath came in quick, uneasy gasps.
Shocked at the marks of intense suffering in her face, I put my arms
tenderly round her--she smiled faintly and tried to kiss me. I pressed
the poor parched little mouth and murmured, soothingly:

"Stella must be patient and quiet--Stella must lie down, the pain will
be better so; there! that is right!" as the child sunk back on her bed
obediently, still keeping her gaze fixed upon me. I knelt at the
bedside, and watched her yearningly--while Assunta moistened her lips,
and did all she could to ease the pain endured so meekly by the poor
little thing whose breathing grew quicker and fainter with every tick
of the clock. "You are my papa, are you not?" she asked, a deeper flush
crossing her forehead and cheeks. I made no answer--I only kissed the
small hot hand I held. Assunta shook her head.

"Ah, poverinetta! The time is near--she sees her father. And why not?
He loved her well--he would come to fetch her for certain if the saints
would let him."

And she fell on her knees and began to tell over her rosary with great
devotion. Meanwhile Stella threw one little arm round my neck--her eyes
were half shut--she spoke and breathed with increasing difficulty.

"My throat aches so, papa!" she said, pitifully. "Can you not make it
better?"

"I wish I could, my darling!" I murmur