ent to shield her and her little home from sorrow and from
danger. Nature was whispering her "Buon riposo!" Her hushed voice spoke
withdrawn among the mountains, withdrawn upon the spaces of the sea. The
heat of the golden day was blessed, but after it how blessed was the cool
of the dim night!

Again she thought that the God who had placed man in the magnificent
scheme of the world must have intended and wished him to be always happy
there. Nature seemed to be telling her this, and her heart was convinced
by Nature, though the story of the Old Testament had sometimes left her
smiling or left her wondering. Men had written a Bible. God had written a
Bible, too. And here she read its pages and was made strong by it.

"Signora!"

Hermione started and turned her head.

"Lucrezia! What is it?"

"What time is it, signora?"

Hermione looked at her watch.

"Nearly eight o'clock. An hour still before supper."

"I've got everything ready."

"To-night we've only cold things, haven't we? You made us a very nice
collazione. The French signore praised your cooking, and he's very
particular, as French people generally are. So you ought to be proud of
yourself."

Lucrezia smiled, but only for an instant. Then she stood with an anxious
face, twisting her apron.

"Signora!"

"Yes? What is it?"

"Would you mind--may I--"

She stopped.

"Why, Lucrezia, are you afraid of me? I've certainly been away too long!"

"No, no, signora, but--" Tears hung in her eyes. "Will you let me go away
if I promise to be back by nine?"

"But you can't go to Marechiaro in--"

"No, signora. I only want to go to the mountain over there under Castel
Vecchio. I want to go to the Madonna."

Hermione took one of the girl's hands.

"To the Madonna della Rocca?"

"Si, signora."

"I understand."

"I have a candle to burn to the Madonna. If I go now I can be back before
nine."

She stood gazing pathetically, like a big child, at her padrona.

"Lucrezia," Hermione said, moved to a great pity by her own great
happiness, "would you mind if I came, too? I think I should like to say a
prayer for you to-night. I am not a Catholic, but my prayer cannot hurt
you."

Lucrezia suddenly forgot distinctions, threw her arms round Hermione, and
began to sob.

"Hush, you must be brave!"

She smoothed the girl's dark hair gently.

"Have you got your candle?"

"Si."

She showed it.

"Let us go quickly, then. Where's Gaspare?"

"Close to t