s
and carried him out of the room."

The Mistress of the House gave a little sigh of relief. "I am so glad he
did," said she; "I was actually beginning to be afraid. I really do not
want to be present when she first sees him."

John Gayther perfectly understood this remark, and took it to heart. It
implied a little lack of faith in his dramatic powers, but it made
things a great deal easier for him.

"Without reentering the room," continued he, "Jaqui partly closed the
door, and gazed at the lady through a little crack."

"I do not know about that," said the Mistress of the House; "he should
have gone in boldly."

"Excuse me," said John Gayther, "but I think not. This was a very
important moment. Nobody knew what would happen. She must not be shocked
by seeing a stranger. At the same time, the eye of a professional man
was absolutely necessary. Donna Paltravi slightly moved and sighed; then
she opened her eyes and gazed for a few minutes at the ceiling; after
which she turned her head upon the cushion of the couch, and in a clear,
soft voice called out, 'Rita!' This was the name of the girl now in
waiting, as it had been the name of her mother, and she instantly
appeared from the adjoining room. She had seen all that had happened,
and was trembling so much she could scarcely stand; but she was a girl
of nerve, and approached and stood by her mistress. 'Rita,' said the
lady, without looking at her, 'I am hungry; bring me some wine and a few
of those cakes you bought yesterday.'

"Dr. Paltravi had remembered everything that had pleased his wife; he
had thought of the little cakes, and had scoured the town early in the
morning to get some which resembled them; he knew her favorite wine, and
had given Rita her instructions. Without delay the maid brought the
refreshments, and in a few minutes the lady was sitting on the couch, a
glass of wine in her hand. 'Rita,' said she, after eating and drinking
a little, 'you are dressed very awkwardly this morning. Have you been
trying to make your own clothes?'

"The doctor had searched diligently in his wife's closets for some
garments belonging to her former maid, and he had thought he had
succeeded in getting Rita to dress as her mother had dressed; but he did
not remember these things as accurately as his wife remembered them.
'You know I do not like carelessness in dress,' continued Donna
Paltravi, 'and now that I look at you more closely--'

"'She is truly alive,' said