ects him?"

But Gaspare evaded the answer, and substituted something that was almost
a rebuke.

"Signora," he said, bluntly, "if I were you I would not have anything to
do with these people. Ruffo's Patrigno is a bad man. Better leave them
alone."

"But, Ruffo?"

"Signora?"

"You like him, don't you?"

"Si, Signora. There is no harm in him."

"And the poor mother?"

"I am not friends with his mother, Signora. I do not want to be."

Hermione was surprised by his harshness.

"But why not?"

"There are people at Mergellina who are bad people," he said. "We are
not Neapolitan. We had better keep to ourselves. You have too much
heart, Signora, a great deal too much heart, and you do not always know
what people are."

"Do you think I ought not to have given Ruffo that money for his
mother?" Hermione asked, almost meekly.

"Si, Signora. It is not for you to give his mother money. It is not for
you."

"Well, Gaspare, it's done now."

"Si, it's done now."

"You don't think Ruffo bad, do you?"

After a pause, Gaspare answered:

"No, Signora. Ruffo is not bad."

Hermione hesitated. She wanted to ask Gaspare something, but she was
not sure that the opportunity was a good one. He was odd to-night. His
temper had surely been upset. Perhaps it would be better to wait. She
decided not to speak of what was in her mind.

"Well, Gaspare, good-night," she said.

"Good-night, Signora."

She smiled at him.

"You see, after all, you have had to say good-night to me!"

"Signora," he answered, earnestly, "even if I do not come to say
good-night to you always, I shall stay with you till death."

Again he made the little noise with his nose, as he turned away and went
out of the room.

That night, as she got into bed, Hermione called down on that faithful
watch-dog's dark head a blessing, the best that heaven contained for
him. Then she put out the light, and lay awake so long that when a boat
came round the cliff from the Saint's Pool to the open sea, in the hour
before the dawn, she heard the soft splash of the oars in the water and
the sound of a boy's voice singing.

"Oh, dolce luna bianca de l' Estate
Mi fugge il sonno accanto a la marina:
Mi destan le dolcissime serate
Gli occhi di Rosa e il mar di Mergellina."

She lifted herself up on her pillow and listened--listened until across
the sea, going towards the dawn, the song was lost.

"Gli occhi di Rosa e il mar di Mergellina."

Wh