eep me waiting like this if--"

"I will go down to the sea," the boy said. "Signora, let me go down to
the sea!"

There was a fury of pleading in his voice. Hermione hesitated, but only
for a moment. Then she answered:

"Yes, you shall go. Stop, Gaspare!"

He had moved towards the arch.

"I'm coming with you."

"You, signora?"

"Yes."

"You cannot come! You are not to come!"

He was actually commanding her--his padrona.

"You are not to come, signora!" he repeated, violently.

"But I am coming," she said.

They stood facing each other. It was like a battle, Gaspare's manner, his
words, the tone in which they were spoken--all made her understand that
there was some sinister terror in his soul. She did not ask what it was.
She did not dare to ask. But she said again:

"I am coming with you, Gaspare."

He stared at her and knew that from that decision there was no appeal. If
he went she would accompany him.

"Let us wait here, signora," he said. "The padrone will be coming
presently. We had better wait here."

But now she was as determined on activity as before she had been--or
seemed--anxious for patience.

"I am going," she answered. "If you like to let me go alone you can."

She spoke very quietly, but there was a thrill in her voice. The boy saw
it was useless just then to pit his will against hers. He dropped his
head, and the ugly look came back to his face, but he made no reply.

"We shall be back very soon, Lucrezia. We are going a little way down to
meet the padrone. Come, Gaspare!"

She spoke to him gently, kindly, almost pleadingly. He made an odd sound.
It was not a word, nor was it a sob. She had never heard anything like it
before. It seemed to her to be like a smothered outcry of a heart torn by
some acute emotion.

"Gaspare!" she said. "We shall meet him. We shall meet him in the
ravine!"

Then they set out. As she was going, Hermione cast a look down towards
the sea. Always at this hour, when night had come, a light shone there,
the light in the siren's house. To-night that little spark was not
kindled. She saw only the darkness. She stopped.

"Why," she said, "there's no light!"

"Signora?"

She pointed over the wall.

"There's no light!" she repeated.

This little fact--she did not know why--frightened her.

"Signora, I am going!"

"Gaspare!" she said. "Give me your hand to help me down the path. It's so
dark. Isn't it?"

She put out her hand. The boy's hand was