This was an advertisement in the paper, which read as follows-- "Wanted, a companion for a young lady. Apply by letter, Dombrain, 13, Chintler Lane, City." "Apply by letter," muttered Mrs. Belswin, with a sneer. "Indeed I won't, Alfred Dombrain. I'll apply in person, and I think I'll obtain the situation. I'll hold it, too--hold it till Rupert returns, and then--and then----" She sprang to her feet and blew a cloud of smoke with a mocking laugh. "And then, my husband, I'll match myself against you." "Salve dimora casta e pura." The singer was coming slowly upstairs, and, as he finished the line, knocked at the door. "Stephano," said Mrs. Belswin, with a frown, glancing at the clock; "what can he want so early? Avanti." The door opened and Stephano, the singer, a tall, lithe Italian, with a beaming smile, presented himself and burst out into a torrent of greeting. "Buon Giorno cara mia! Ah, my beautiful Lucrezia! my splendid Norma! how like an angel you look this morning. Gran dio che grazia. Signora, I kiss your hand." He dropped on one knee in an affectedly theatrical manner and pressed his lips to Mrs. Belswin's hand, upon which she twitched it away with a frown, and spoke roughly to her adorer. "What do you want, Ferrari?" "Niente! niente! but to pay a visit of ceremony." "It's not customary to pay visits of ceremony at ten o'clock in the morning. I wish you would go away. I'm busy." "Che donna," said the Italian. With a gesture of admiration, and taking off his hat, sat down on the sofa. Stephano Ferrari was a handsome man in a wicked way. He was tall and slender, with a dark, expressive face, white teeth, which gleamed under his heavy black moustache, wonderfully fine eyes, and a bland, ingratiating manner. English he spoke remarkably well, having been for many years away from his native land, but had a habit of interlarding his conversation with Italian ejaculations, which, in conjunction with his carefully-learnt English, had a somewhat curious effect. Being the tenor of an opera company in New York, he had become acquainted with Mrs. Belswin, who was also in the profession, and had fallen violently in love with this splendid-looking woman, who had so many of the characteristics of his countrywomen. Mrs. Belswin did not reciprocate this passion, and treated him with marked discourtesy; but this only added fuel to the fire of his love, much to her annoyance, as Ferrari had all the ardour and violence of his race strongly developed, and was likely to prove dangerous if she did not return his passion, a thing she felt by no means inclined to do. At present he sat smiling on the sofa before her, adjusted his bright red tie, ran his fingers through his curly hair, and then twisted the ends of his moustache with peculiarly aggravating complacency. "Don't you hear what I say?" said Mrs. Belswin, stamping her foot angrily. "I'm busy. Go away."