ifficult and dangerous. Look," said he, "at these
large drops of rain, which are the avant-couriers of a violent storm."

"Indeed," said Maulear, "I will then accompany you to the ladies."

When they returned to the room, they found Signora Rovero talking with
the Count Brignoli, and Taddeo, with his head on his hand, lost in sad
meditation. Leaning on the back of his chair, was the poetic figure of
Aminta. Her long black curls fell over her brother's brow, and when he
looked up to see what it was that hung over him, she leaned her face
towards his until their lips met.

"Brother," said she, "I closed your eyes on purpose that I might hide
what I see in them."

"What do you see there, my dear sister?"

"I see," said she, "by their sadness and languor, that my brother has
three pieces of a heart. Two he keeps for my mother and myself, but the
third--"

"Is for none," said Taddeo, rising.

"Very well, very well, Monsieur," said Aminta, piqued. "No one asks you
for your secret. We take an interest only in those we love--and I love
you no more."

"My good sister," said Taddeo, clasping her hands with emotion, "love
me, love me better than ever, for I have more need of your affection."
Aminta threw herself in his arms.

"What is all that?" said their mother, looking around.

"A family drama," said Gaetano, who had just come in with Maulear.

"Yes, Gaetano," said Signora Rovero, "and a happy scene of that drama;
for I know of no family more fortunate than mine."

Aminta drew near to Maulear, and her manner was so kind, and she paid
such attention to her guest, that Maulear felt his uneasiness pass away
and his confidence return. Just then the storm burst in all its fury.
The wind whistled violently among the tall trees of the park. Signora
Rovero kept her three guests. A night passed beneath the same roof with
Aminta, gratified every wish of the Marquis, and promised him an
opportunity on the next day to declare himself to the Rose of Sorrento,
and confirm or dissipate his jealous doubts.

Signora Rovero wished to discharge every duty of hospitality to her
guest, and escorted him herself to the room he was to occupy. "This
room," said she to Maulear, "was long occupied by my dear daughter; but
after the death of her father we altered our arrangements, and Aminta is
now in my own room. Since that time it has been occupied by our young
friend Gaetano Brignoli. I have to-night placed him elsewhere, to be
able to