"'And now, please you, image to yourself that I have made my topmost step, and only await a word of signal through the _sfiatatoio_. And this was, believe me, my worst time of all. For I knew that the most precious thing to me in all this world, the life of my Maddalena, must be risked again to give me that signal! Nay! I did not know, could not know, that she had not already tried to give it, and, so attempting it, been precipitated to the awful rocks below, where whoso fell might readily lie unheeded, and not be found for years. "'But I hold to my purpose in a silent despair. I watch through hours of the still mornings. But nothing moves again in front of the little stars that come and go, for many days. I do not let myself count the days nor the hours, and always strive to think of them at their fewest. Then one night a meteor shoots across the span of sky that I can see, blinding out the little stars, and leaving sparks of fire to die down as they may. And my heart lifts, for I count it a harbinger of good. And so it proves, for I next hear--because, understand me, this meteor shot across Heaven's vault with a strong hissing sound, like _fuochi artificiati_--the slack of the rope that lets my darling down to me with her message of...'" Another hitch in the narrative. Mr. Pelly stopped with a humble apologetic expression, having reference rather to the young lady than to her parents. "Really, my dear," said he, "I feel quite guilty--as if I was to blame--when these abominable blanks come." "Yes! And you know I always think it's your fault; and I do get so angry. Poor Uncle Christopher! What a shame! What's that, Mumsey?" "Nothing, dear. Only I thought I heard the step of a horse in the Avenue." "So did I. Only it can't be anything at this time of night." The knowledge that a guest was pending shortly--one of the sort that comes and goes at will--caused the Baronet to say: "It might be General Fordyce--only he said he wouldn't come till Tuesday." To whom his wife and daughter replied conjointly: "Oh no! The General!--not at midnight--well!--at half-past eleven! Look at the clock. Anyhow, his room's all ready," etc., etc. After which Madeline spoke alone: "Now, Mr. Pelly, go on again. I do so hope it's a plummy bit." Then, illogically, "Besides, it wasn't a carriage." She silenced a disposition of her parents to interpose on Mr. Pelly's behalf by saying: "Oh no, we shan't tire Uncle Christopher to death. Shall we, Uncle Christopher?" "God bless me, no! The idea! Besides, there's really not so very much more to read. Unless I'm keeping you up?" "Pupsey and Mumsey can go to bed, and leave us to finish." "Oh no! We want to hear the end of it." Pupsey and Mumsey were unanimous. "Very well, then! I can fill up Uncle's glass and Pupsey's, and we can go on and finish comfortably. Now, fire away!" And Mr. Pelly read on: