‘I suppose he is received in respectable society,’ she thought darkly. ‘I’ve never met him anywhere; but--surely--have I heard people talking about some rich, vulgar colonial millionaire? I’ve been so little out lately. I must begin to stir myself up and go about a little more amongst my fellow-creatures. Can he be an impostor?’ She gave a joyful start. ‘Who knows what he is? I’m sure in looks the most stagey _roué_ that ever played the villain’s part in a transpontine melodrama could not exceed him. He looks just the man to have a wife concealed somewhere. No doubt he has. Oh yes, that must be the case. We must find it out, and expose him. Even the signora could not get over such an awkward little fact as that, in addition to which her daughter could not be legally married to him, and could have no claims upon his money. Really, I am becoming acute and ingenious, driven by necessity.’ She had been sitting still all this time, her hand resting upon that of Fulvia; and looking up now, she perceived the girl’s eyes fixed upon her with wistful solicitude. In an instant Minna knew that all her thoughts and suspicions amounted to practically nothing--counted for nothing, would effect nothing. ‘Fulvia,’ she said in a deep voice, ‘it is a difficult matter. I am not clever enough to grapple with it at once. All I can say to you is, that I shall think about it continually, and if I can find a means of helping you I shall do it. I know this is cold comfort for you, but I am only human--I can do no more.’ ‘Ah!’ said Fulvia, ‘I am sure you would if you could. So would Beppo. Poor Beppo! He has no money, you know, or he would give every penny of it to mamma to set me free. And I should let him do it, because then I could pay him for it by working for him with my own hands. We should be so happy, even in an attic--I with my work, he with his books--we should never think of anything dreadful.’ ‘You love Signor Giuseppe?’ hazarded Minna. ‘Love him! Ah, how good he is! and how kind, and how wise ... and how sad!’ she added in a lower voice. Yes; Minna knew it, and felt that she must not pursue the subject any further. It was like prying into a man’s secrets behind his back. ‘Now I must go,’ said Fulvia. ‘You have been very kind to me. I like being here.’ ‘You must come often. I shall always be glad when you do. You will have to come, you know, to look after the birds.’ Fulvia nodded gravely. ‘Yes, I must go now to mamma’s room. She will wonder already where I have been so long.’ She put her hand within that which Minna extended to her, carried the latter to her lips, and then, lifting her head, and with a forlorn smile, went quietly out of the room. END OF VOL. I. BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES Changes made to text: On page 4, changed “eight-and twenty” to “eight-and-twenty” On page 23, near “Medusa Morente”, the original spelling of “Apoxiomene” has been retained