Of course our Lady wanted him--she always picks out the best among us.

The poor Giacomo will not listen to me, he grows weak and childish, and he loved the master too well--better," and here her voice would deepen into reproachful solemnity, "yes, better actually than St.Joseph himself! And of course one is punished for such a thing.

I always knew my master would die young--he was too gentle as a baby, and too kind-hearted as a man to stay here long." And she would shake her gray head and feel for the beads of her rosary, and mutter many an Ave for the repose of my soul.

Much as I wished it, I could never get her to talk about her mistress--it was the one subject on which she was invariably silent.

On one occasion when I spoke with apparent enthusiasm of the beauty and accomplishments of the young countess, she glanced at me with sudden and earnest scrutiny--sighed--but said nothing.