th the gifts of the good
fairy as much as he embodied any religious symbol. _His mission was to
avert evil._ The saint passed to a new shrine without attendant
priests, acolytes, and banners, the swinging of censers, the tinkling
of bells, as in the fine old days before Rome was a modern European
capital. It was not even borne aloft on sailors' shoulders, like the
silver statue of Our Lady at Marseilles, or the miracle-working black
Madonna of Montenero at Leghorn. Instead, San Donato moved under the
arm of a young girl, muffled in a shawl, skirting the bridge, the
quay, the square, now in sunshine, now in shadow, and finally gained
the Piazza di SS. Apostoli. Here he was conducted across a court
adorned with mouldy statues, and vanished up a broad stairway.

On the third story of the palazzo, shorn of its former papal glories,
and yet not degenerated to shabbiness, a door bore the card of Mrs.
Henry Denvil. Governess and pupil entered this apartment, and each
sought her respective chamber. Cecilia tossed aside her hat, placed
the image on the table, and, resting her chin on her hand, gazed at it
steadfastly. San Donato, with his aureole glistening, and holding his
palm branch, seemed to return her scrutiny mildly--even to interpret
her thought. She had never possessed a confidante other than a company
of dolls, now banished as too juvenile companions. "Do you see how it
will be?" she said aloud to the image. "You shall be placed in the
salon, and look down on us all. Nobody will ever banish you again to a
dirty little shop. Perhaps my papa will come over for Christmas. Do
not tell--I begged him to come in my last letter after mademoiselle
had corrected. I do not spell very well in English, you know, while
Jack has forgotten it altogether, mamma says. Jack is at school in
Switzerland, and I have not seen him for two years. He is my brother."

She took up her saint again, and went along the corridor. Her head was
erect, and a soft smile played about her mouth. She peeped into the
salon, drew back, reflected a moment, and entered. This salon
possessed the charm for her of forbidden ground. She was rigidly
banished from it by her mother, who received here much company. Hence
the delight of seeking some niche up high, where San Donato could be
placed. Possibly a gay lady would peer at him through her lorgnette,
and inquire, "Pray, my dear Mrs. Denvil, where did you get that
little statue?"

Mamma would seek _her_ lorgnet