tle something for him, but his case is beyond all
medicine."

"Oh, doctor, do you really mean to say that he will die?"

"Die?" and the doctor laughed his little cynical laugh. "Why, we shall
all die some day, shall we not?"

"Now, doctor, do be serious. Is there no hope for him?"

"I don't see that there is;" and he continued to gaze at the boy's face
as if it had some fascination for him.

Eugenio Noele failed not a week later to send his clerk to make
arrangements for the departure of the Morteras. As the time drew nearer
Celestino failed rapidly. He would lie for hours without speaking except
with his eloquent eyes. Frequently he would kiss a little ring that I
had given him, and a few days before his departure I gave him a trinket
consisting of a turquoise heart, with a cross set with crystals over red
stones, emblematical of the blood and water that flowed from the side of
our Redeemer. This he received with great emotion, and as I tied it to
his neck with a ribbon he said, "I will wear it as long as I have life."

"Does Celestino fear to die?"

"No, signora, not whilst you are near me; and by dying I shall see my
brothers and sisters in heaven, and can come and watch over you all."

"Sweetest child! It will break my heart to lose thee."

"Ah, do not weep;" and the boy's lips paled and his eyelids closed. I
gave him water, and called to his mother to come and speak to him.

"Ah, this child of my bosom! my poor Celestino! must he leave me too?"

"Dear signora, he goes to a world free from such sorrows or cares as
yours have been. He is like an angel even now."

"Celestino, kiss thy poor afflicted mother." Without a word, but with
trembling lips, he stretched forth his arms to embrace her, and I stole
away, leaving to her sacred sorrow the poor woman who for the moment,
forgetting her self-imposed ascetic restraint, was yielding to every
impulse of demonstrative tenderness.

The night before their departure Eugenio wrote an ode addressed to me,
and placed it in my hands. I did not then read it through: I felt too
dispirited and preoccupied. The next morning his eyes met mine with a
questioning expression that I did not comprehend. When the hour for
parting had arrived tears and broken exclamations were mingled. Eugenio
lingered to kiss me, with a look first of inquiry, then of deep despair.
I found afterward that the poem he had presented to me contained a
protestation of humble and devoted love, which