id--

"One word more. When you leave here you will go to Professor
Gilardoni's, will you not?"

"That was my first plan. I was to have told my grandmother that I was
going to sleep at Gilardoni's house, as we were to start on an excursion
together in the morning. But now, you know how I left home."

"Still you had better go there. I had rather you went there, and
besides, he expects you, does he not? So you must go. Poor Gilardoni! He
has never been here since his fit of madness, two years ago. You know
about that, do you not? Luisa has told you?"

"Yes, Mamma."

This Professor Gilardoni, who lived like a hermit at Casarico, had
fallen most romantically in love with Signora Teresa some years before,
and had timidly presented himself to her as a suitor. She had received
his proposal with such utter amazement that he had lacked courage to
appear before her again.

"Poor man!" Signora Rigey continued, "that was a most stupid action, but
he has a heart of gold, and is a true friend. I wish you to cherish him.
The day before he had that mad fit, he confided a secret to me. I may
not repeat to you what he said, and moreover, I beg you not to mention
the subject to him unless he speaks to you about it; but it is, in fact,
something which, under certain circumstances, might be of great
importance to you two, especially if you have children. If Gilardoni
should confide in you, reflect seriously before telling Luisa. She might
look at the matter in a wrong light. Consider the question carefully,
consult Uncle Piero, and then speak or remain silent according to the
line of action you may have determined to adopt."

"Yes, Mamma."

There was a gentle tap at the door, and Luisa's voice said: "Have you
finished?"

Franco looked at the invalid. "Come in," said she. "Is it time to go?"

Luisa did not answer, but threw one arm around Franco's neck, and
together they knelt before the mother, their heads buried in her lap.
Luisa tried her best to restrain her tears, knowing well that her mother
should be spared all violent emotion, but her heaving shoulders betrayed
her.

"No, Luisa, no, dear, no!" said her mother, caressing her bowed head. "I
am grateful to you, for you have always been a good daughter dear; such
a good daughter! Calm yourself; I am so happy! You will see, I shall
get better. Now go. Kiss me, both of you, and then go. You must not keep
the curate waiting. May God bless you, Luisa, and you also, Franco!"

S