es, and
yawned.

"I was asleep, Signorina."

She looked at him intently, and he saw tears in her eyes.

"Gaspare, what is the matter with Madre?"

"Signorina?"

"Oh, what is the matter?" She came a step nearer to him. "Gaspare, I'm
frightened! I'm frightened!"

She laid her hand on his arm.

"Why, Signorina? Have you seen the Padrona?"

"No. But--but--I've heard--What is it? What has happened? Where has
Madre been all this time? Has she been in Naples?"

"Signorina, I don't think so."

"Where has she been?"

"I believe the Signora has been to Mergellina."

Vere began to tremble.

"What can have happened there? What can have happened?"

She trembled in every limb. Her face had become white.

"Signorina, Signorina! Are you ill?"

"No--I don't know what to do--what I ought to do. I'm afraid to speak
to the servants--they are making the siesta. Gaspare, come with me, and
tell me what we ought to do. But--never say to any one--never say--if
you hear!"

"Signorina!"

He had caught her terror. His huge eyes looked awestruck.

"Come with me, Gaspare!"

Making an obvious and great effort, she controlled her body, turned and
went before him to the house. She walked softly, and he imitated her.
They almost crept up-stairs till they reached the landing outside
Hermione's bedroom door. There they stood for two or three minutes,
listening.

"Come away, Gaspare!"

Vere had whispered with lips that scarcely moved.

When they were in Hermione's sitting-room she caught hold of both his
hands. She was a mere child now, a child craving for help.

"Oh, Gaspare, what are we to do? Oh--I'm--I'm frightened! I can't bear
it!"

The door of the room was open.

"Shut it!" she said. "Shut it, then we sha'n't--"

He shut it.

"What can it be? What can it be?"

She looked at him, followed his eyes. He had stared towards the
writing-table, then at the floor near it. On the table lay a quantity
of fragments of broken glass, and a silver photograph-frame bent, almost
broken. On the floor was scattered a litter of card-board.

"She came in here! Madre was in here--"

She bent down to the carpet, picked up some of the bits of card-board,
turned them over, looked at them. Then she began to tremble again.

"It's father's photograph!"

She was now utterly terrified.

"Oh, Gaspare! Oh, Gaspare!"

She began to sob.

"Hush, Signorina! Hush!"

He spoke almost sternly, bent down, collected the fragments of
car