With a fond touch I stroked the flaxen head; I closed the dark, upturned, and glazing eyes--I kissed the waxen cheeks and lips, and folded the tiny hands in an attitude of prayer.

There was a grave smile on the young dead face--a smile of superior wisdom and sweetness, majestic in its simplicity.

Assunta rose from her knees and laid her crucifix on the little breast--the tears were running down her worn and withered countenance.

As she strove to wipe them away with her apron, she said tremblingly:-- "It must be told to madama." A frown came on the doctor's face.

He was evidently a true Britisher, decisive in his opinions, and frank enough to declare them openly.