of small loose stones; he soon sent them
after the maiden, who, turning to the right, had begun to climb the
heights, holding one hand above her eyes to protect them from the
scorching sun. Just before the path disappeared behind high walls, she
stopped, as if to gather breath, and looked behind her. At her feet lay
the marina; the rugged rocks rose high around her; the sea was shining
in the rarest of its deep blue splendour. The scene was surely worth a
moment's pause. But as chance would have it, her eye, in glancing past
Antonio's boat, met with Antonio's own, which had been following her as
she climbed.

Each made a slight movement, as persons do who would excuse themselves
for some mistake; and then, with her darkest look, the maiden went her
way.

* * * * *

Hardly one hour had passed since noon, and yet for the last two,
Antonio had been sitting waiting on the bench before the fisher's
tavern. He must have been very much preoccupied with something, for he
jumped up every moment to step out into the sunshine, and look
carefully up and down the roads, which, parting right and left, lead to
the only two little towns upon the island. He did not altogether trust
the weather, he then said to the hostess of the Osteria; to be sure, it
was clear enough, but he did not quite like that tint of sea and sky.
Just so it had looked, he said, before that last awful storm, when the
English family had been so nearly lost; surely she must remember it?

No, indeed, she said, she didn't.

Well, if the weather should happen to change before the night, she was
to think of him, he said.

"Have you many fine folk over there?" she asked him, after a while.

"They are only just beginning; as yet, the season has been bad enough;
those who came to bathe, came late.

"The spring came late. Have you not been earning more than we at
Capri?"

"Not enough to give me maccaroni twice a week, if I had had nothing but
the boat;--only a letter now and then to take to Naples;--or a
gentleman to row out into the open sea, that he might fish. But you
know I have an uncle who is rich:--he owns more than one fine orange
garden,--and; 'Tonino,' says he to me; 'while I live you shall not
suffer want, and when I am gone you will find that I have taken care of
you;' and so, with God's help, I got through the winter."

"Has he children, this uncle who is so rich?"

"No, he never married; he was long in for