"I have heard it often enough," she smiled, "on the lips of my boy Angelo. You know him well. I am his old nurse. Perhaps you have heard him speak of me." "I believe I have," I replied. "Ah me! this lady has turned my poor boy's brain. He is mad--quite mad--with love for her. No sleep had he last night. All through the long hours he was walking his room to and fro, to and fro, to and fro, repeating her name. Ah, why did Father Ignatius frown so on him? I want to tell her that he is a good youth and can have done nothing wrong. The Father is a hard man, and the lightest trifle displeases him. I saw this lady faint at my poor boy's disgrace, and I want to tell her that it is all well with him. Jesu, Maria!" she ejaculated suddenly, looking with loving adoration on Daphne's face "how beautiful she is! A worthy match for my handsome boy." So this, then, was her motive in attending Daphne! To pour into her ear the praises of Angelo, and to assure her of the goodness of his character! "Your 'boy,' as you call him, shall never have Daphne," I exclaimed savagely--"never!" And in an ecstasy of rage and love I kissed her passionately, and at the very moment my lips met hers her dark blue eyes opened wide and looked full into mine. Was it the reflection of my own eyes that I beheld in hers or did they really shine with a tender light? Did her fingers really return my pressure, or was it but the effect of my imagination? I could not tell. She had returned to her unconscious state again. The old woman had risen to her feet, and was regarding me with a superb contempt that would have done credit to the prince of darkness. "So you, then, are the rival of whom my boy speaks in his dreams--you!" she exclaimed with a gesture of disdain. "And do you hope to win this lady from him--you? It will not be by the beauty of your face, then. Compared with you, my boy is an angel." "I thank you for your services," I replied coldly, "but I can dispense with them, and with your compliments too. I wish you good-day, madame." And, seeing that my uncle could not find a vessel in which to convey the water, I lifted Daphne and carried her over to him. The old dame remained standing on the spot where I had left her, and, after contemplating me for a few seconds, walked off with a stately air. "What have you done to offend our good _bonne_?" asked my uncle, as he sprinkled Daphne's face and throat with water. "Who do you think she is?" "Florence Nightingale?" "Angelo's nurse. She was instituting comparisons between your humble servant and her oil-and-colour _protégé_; so I dismissed her." Very slowly Daphne recovered from her swoon, smiling faintly at her weakness, and very tenderly did I lead her to a seat. As soon as she was quite recovered my uncle left us to ascertain what had been done with Angelo. "I feel quite frightened, Frank," said Daphne, trembling all over, "at what has just happened. Why did the priest refuse Angelo the Sacrament?"