in exchange, my
little one; and so the bargain is complete."

She went to the small table adjoining to hunt among the photographs.

"And lastly, one more point, Signorina Natalushka," said Calabressa,
with the air of one who had got through some difficult work. "You asked
me once to find out for you who was the lady from whom you received the
little silver locket. Well, you see, that is now out of my power. I am
going away. If you are still curious, you must ask some one else; but is
it not natural to suppose that the locket may have been stolen a great
many years ago, and at last the thief resolves to restore it? No matter;
it is only a locket."

She returned with a few photographs for him to chose from. He picked out
two.

"There is one for me; there is one for my old mother. I will say to her,
'Do you remember the young Hungarian lady who came to see you at Spezia?
Put on your spectacles now, and see whether that is not the same young
lady. Ah, good old mother; can you see no better than that?--that is not
Natalie Berezolyi at all; that is her daughter, who lives in England.
But she has not got the English way; she is not content when she herself
is comfortable; she thinks of others; she has an ear for voices afar
off.' That is what I shall say to the old mother."

He put the photographs in his pocket.

"In the mean time, my little daughter," said he, "now that our pressing
business is over, one may speak at leisure: and what of you, now? My
sight is not very good; but even my eyes can see that you are not
looking cheerful enough. You are troubled, Natalushka, or you would not
have forgotten to thank me for giving you the only treasure I have in
the world."

The girl's pale face flushed, and she said, quickly,

"There are some things that are not to be expressed in words, Signor
Calabressa. I cannot tell you what I think of your kindness to me."

"Silence! do you not understand my joking? _Eh, bien_; let us understand
each other. Your father has spoken to me--a little, not much. He would
rather have an end to the love affair, _n'est ce pas_?"

"There are some other things that are not to be spoken of," the girl
said, in a low voice, but somewhat proudly.

"Natalushka, I will not have you answer me like that. It is not right.
If you knew all my history, perhaps you would understand why I ask you
questions--why I interfere--why you think me impertinent--"

"Oh no, signore; how can I think that?"

She ha