rvants where you lived; and here I am--with the cruel
teeth of anxiety gnawing me alive when I think of the time to come. Oh,
my lamb! my angel! she's alone. Oh, my God, only seventeen years old,
and alone in the world! No father, no mother; and soon--oh, too soon,
too soon--not even Teresa! What are you looking at? What is there so
wonderful in the tears of a stupid old fool? Drops of hot water. Ha! ha!
if they fall on your fine carpet here, they won't hurt it. You're a good
fellow; you're a dear fellow. Hush! I know the Evil Eye when I see
it. No more of that! A secret in your ear--I've said a word for you
to Carmina already. Give her time; she's not cold; young and innocent,
that's all. Love will come--I know, what I know--love will come."

She laughed--and, in the very act of laughing, changed again. Fright
looked wildly at Ovid out of her staring eyes. Some terrifying
remembrance had suddenly occurred to her. She sprang to her feet.

"You said you were going away," she cried. "You said it, when you left
us yesterday. It can't be! it shan't be! You're not going to leave
Carmina, too?"

Ovid's first impulse was to tell the whole truth. He resisted the
impulse. To own that Carmina was the cause of his abandonment of the
sea-voyage, before she was even sure of the impression she had
produced on him, would be to place himself in a position from which
his self-respect recoiled. "My plans are changed," was all he said to
Teresa. "Make your mind easy; I'm not going away."

The strange old creature snapped her fingers joyously. "Good-bye! I
want no more of you." With those cool and candid words of farewell, she
advanced to the door--stopped suddenly to think--and came back. Only a
moment had passed, and she was as sternly in earnest again as ever.

"May I call you by your name?" she asked.

"Certainly!"

"Listen, Ovid! I may not see you again before I go back to my husband.
This is my last word--never forget it. Even Carmina may have enemies!"

What could she be thinking of? "Enemies--in my mother's house!" Ovid
exclaimed. "What can you possibly mean?"

Teresa returned to the door, and only answered him when she had opened
it to go.

"The Evil Eye never lies," she said. "Wait--and you will see."

CHAPTER X.

Mrs. Gallilee was on her way to the breakfast-room, when her son entered
the house. They met in the hall. "Is your packing done?" she asked.

He was in no humour to wait, and make his confession at