three days ago; and then she was traced from her room in
my house to the post-office with a letter, which she dropped into the
box."

"And the address of which you discovered before she took it from your
house?"

"Unfortunately I did not," answered the little man, reddening and
looking askance at the priest, as if he expected to receive a severe
reprimand.

But Father Rocco said nothing. He was thinking. Who could she have
written to? If to Fabio, why should she have waited for months and
months, after she had learned how to use her pen, before sending him a
letter? If not to Fabio, to what other person could she have written?

"I regret not discovering the address--regret it most deeply," said the
little man, with a low bow of apology.

"It is too late for regret," said Father Rocco, coldly. "Tell me how she
came to leave your house; I have not heard that yet. Be as brief as you
can. I expect to be called every moment to the bedside of a near and
dear relation, who is suffering from severe illness. You shall have all
my attention; but you must ask it for as short a time as possible."

"I will be briefness itself. In the first place, you must know that I
have--or rather had--an idle, unscrupulous rascal of an apprentice in my
business."

The priest pursed up his mouth contemptuously.

"In the second place, this same good-for-nothing fellow had the
impertinence to fall in love with Nanina."

Father Rocco started, and listened eagerly.

"But I must do the girl the justice to say that she never gave him the
slightest encouragement; and that, whenever he ventured to speak to her,
she always quietly but very decidedly repelled him."

"A good girl!" said Father Rocco. "I always said she was a good girl. It
was a mistake on my part ever to have distrusted her."

"Among the other offenses," continued the little man, "of which I now
find my scoundrel of an apprentice to have been guilty, was the enormity
of picking the lock of my desk, and prying into my private papers."

"You ought not to have had any. Private papers should always be burned
papers."

"They shall be for the future; I will take good care of that."

"Were any of my letters to you about Nanina among these private papers?"

"Unfortunately they were. Pray, pray excuse my want of caution this
time. It shall never happen again."

"Go on. Such imprudence as yours can never be excused; it can only be
provided against for the future. I suppose the ap