on, he grew more and more
downhearted. It was a certainty that, out of all those friends of her
father's some one must have dreamed of possessing this beautiful prize
for his own.

When, after not much waiting, he saw Natalie and Anneli cross into the
Park, he had so reasoned himself into despair that he was not
surprised--at least he tried to convince himself that he was not
surprised--to perceive that the former was accompanied by a stranger,
the little German maid-servant walking not quite with them, and yet not
altogether behind them. He could almost have expected this; and yet his
eyes seemed hot, and he had some difficulty in trying to make out who
this might be. And at this great distance he could only gather that he
was foreign in appearance, and that he wore a peaked cap in place of a
hat.

He dared not follow them now; and he was about to turn away when he saw
Natalie's new companion motion to her to sit down on one of the seats.
He sat down, too; and he took her hand, and held it in his. What then?

This man looking on from a distance, with a bitter heart, had no thought
against her. Was it not natural for so beautiful a girl to have a lover?
But that this fellow--this foreigner--should degrade her by treating her
as if she were a nursery-maid flirting with one of the soldiers from the
barracks down there, this filled him with bitterness and hatred. He
turned and walked away with a firm step. He had no ill thoughts of her,
whatever message she might send him. At the worst, she had been generous
to him; she had filled his life with love and hope; she had given him a
future. If this dream were shattered, at least he could turn elsewhere,
and say, "Labor, be thou my good."

Meanwhile, of this stranger? He had indeed taken Natalie Lind's hand in
his, and Natalie let it remain there without hesitation.

"My little daughter," said he to her in Italian, "I could have
recognized you by your hands. You have the hands of your mother: no one
in the world had more beautiful hands than she had. And now I will tell
you about her, if you promise not to cry any more."

It was Calabressa who spoke.

CHAPTER XVII.

CALABRESSA.

When Calabressa called at the house in Curzon Street he was at once
admitted; Natalie recognizing the name as that of one of her father's
old friends. Calabressa had got himself up very smartly, to produce an
impression on the little Natalushka whom he expected to see. His
military-l