but human in the
fall of the eyelids; almost such as an early poet of the brush gave to
the Virgin carrying her Child, to become an everlasting reduplicated
image of a mother's strong beneficence of love. He called Rinaldo's
attention to it when the woman had gone. Rinaldo understood his meaning
at once.

"It will have to be so, I fear," he said; "I have thought of it. But if
I lead her to disobey Barto, there is little hope for the poor soul." He
rose up straight, like one who would utter grace for meat. "Must we, O
my God, give a sacrifice at every step?"

With that he resumed his seat stiffly, and bent and murmured to himself.
Wilfrid had at one time of his life imagined that he was marked by a
peculiar distinction from the common herd; but contact with this young
man taught him to feel his fellowship to the world at large, and to
rejoice at it, though it partially humbled him.

They had no further visit from Barto Rizzo. The woman tended them in
the same unswerving silence, and at whiles that adorable maternity
of aspect. Wilfrid was touched by commiseration for her. He was too
bitterly fretful on account of clean linen and the liberty which
fluttered the prospect of it, to think much upon what her fate might be:
perhaps a beating, perhaps the knife. But the vileness of wearing one
shirt two months and more had hardened his heart; and though he was
considerate enough not to prompt his companion very impatiently,
he submitted desperate futile schemes to him, and
suggested--"To-night?--tomorrow?--the next day?" Rinaldo did not heed
him. He lay on his couch like one who bleeds inwardly, thinking of the
complacent faithfulness of that poor creature's face. Barto Rizzo had
sworn to him that there should be a rising in Milan before the month was
out; but he had lost all confidence in Milanese risings. Ammiani would
be removed, if he delayed; and he knew that the moment his letter
reached Lugano, Angelo would start for Milan and claim to surrender in
his stead. The woman came, and went forth, and Rinaldo did not look at
her until his resolve was firm.

He said to Wilfrid in her presence, "Swear that you will reveal nothing
of this house."

Wilfrid spiritedly pronounced his gladdest oath.

"It is dark in the streets," Rinaldo addressed the woman. "Lead us out,
for the hour has come when I must go."

She clutched her hands below her bosom to stop its great heaving, and
stood as one smitten by the sudden hearing of