“And now, Teresina, I have a little plan to propose to you,” said Godfrey, when the other had turned the corner. “As I told you just now, I am on my way to England, and therefore, shall only be able to spend to-night in Naples. From the announcements I see they are playing ‘Faust’ at the Opera-House. Why should not you and your mother dine with me, and go there afterward? It would be a pleasant way of spending the evening, and we could talk of old days.” Teresina clapped her hands with delight. In her love of the Opera she was a genuine Neapolitan. “It would be lovely,” she cried. “My mother will come, I feel sure. It is kind of you, signor.” It was thereupon arranged that they should meet at a certain place, dine, and then go on to the Opera together. Having settled this, Henderson returned to his hotel, whiled away the time as best he could, and when the hour arrived, set off to the rendezvous. Punctual to the moment he put in an appearance at the place. It was a restaurant not unlike that in which he had first met Teresina and her mother. He could not help recalling that memorable evening as he waited on the pavement outside, and his one wish was that Fensden could have been there to have shared the entertainment with him. When the signora and her daughter arrived, it was plain that they regarded the occasion an important one. They were both attired in their best, and, so far as colour went, the signora herself was not unlike a bird of Paradise. Teresina was more soberly clad, but Henderson noticed that a necklace with which he had once presented her, as a memento of a certain piece of extra work she had done for him, encircled her slender throat. As he looked at it, he thought of the day on which he had given it to her, and as the remembrance occurred to him, he wondered whether it was wise on his part to play with fire for a second time. The signora greeted him with southern volubility, and, as soon as he could get in a word, Henderson suggested that they should enter the restaurant. Having done so, they seated themselves at one of the small tables, and he gave his orders. It was a banquet that was destined to be remembered with pleasure by two of the party, and also by a third, for another and less romantic reason. “And so you are returning to England, signor?” said the signora, when the first pangs of her hunger had been assuaged. Then, remembering the circumstances connected with the latter portion of their stay in London, she added, pathetically: “I think if it were possible, I should not be sorry to return--even though the winter is so cold and it rains so often.” “If you feel as if you would like to return, why do you not do so?” asked Godfrey, with a quickness that caused Teresina to look up at him in surprise, and then to look down again with equal celerity. “I am sure Teresina could get plenty of employment. I would do all I could to help her. For my own part, I never could understand why you left so quickly.”