y expectations, the sitting-room we entered on the top
floor was quite comfortably furnished, clean and respectable, even
though traces of poverty were apparent. A cheap lamp was burning upon
the table, but the apartment was unoccupied.

Olinto, in surprise, passed into the adjoining room, returning a moment
later, exclaiming--

"Armida must have gone out to get something. Or perhaps she is with the
people, a compositor and his wife, who live on the floor below. They are
very good to her. I'll go and find her. Accommodate yourself with a
chair, signore." And he drew the best chair forward for me, and dusted
it with his handkerchief.

I allowed him to go and fetch her, rather surprised that she should be
well enough to get about after all he had told me concerning her
illness. Yet consumption does not keep people in bed until its final
stages.

As I stood there, gazing round the room, I could not well distinguish
its furthermost corners, for the lamp bore a shade of green paste-board,
which threw a zone of light upon the table, and left the remainder of
the room in darkness. When, however, my eyes grew accustomed to the dim
light, I discerned that the place was dusty and somewhat disordered. The
sofa was, I saw, a folding iron bedstead with greasy old cushions, while
the carpet was threadbare and full of holes. When I drew the old rep
curtains to look out of the window, I found that the shutters were
closed, which I thought unusual for a room so high up as that was.

Olinto returned in a few moments, saying that his wife had evidently
gone to do some shopping in the Lower-Marsh, for it is the habit of the
denizens of that locality to go "marketing" in the evening among the
costermongers' stalls that line so many of the thoroughfares. Perishable
commodities, the overplus of the markets and shops, are cheaper at night
than in the morning.

"I hope you are not pressed for time, signore?" he said apologetically.
"But, of course, the poor girl does not know the surprise awaiting her.
She will surely not be long."

"Then I'll wait," I said, and flung myself back into the chair he had
brought forward for me.

"I have nothing to offer you, signer padrone," he said, with a laugh. "I
did not expect a visitor, you know."

"No, no, Olinto. I've only just had dinner. But tell me how you have
fared since you left me."

"Ah!" he laughed bitterly. "I had many ups and downs before I found
myself here in London. The sea did n