“‘A few days’ is a vague term! Yet I was not disturbed by that. He left me, and I never saw his face again. “Just one week after he went away my child was born—a boy. I was very healthy, and had a rapid convalescence, notwithstanding the suspense and anxiety I was suffering on account of my father. “I wrote to Luigi—to the address he had given me—and informed him of the event. But I received no reply to my letter. Yet, I got better every day, and I took great comfort and delight in my child. Also, I daily expected the return of Saviola to answer my letter in person—for I remembered that he hated to write, and was therefore one of the very worst correspondents in the world. “But I was disappointed. Day followed day, week succeeded week, and I neither saw nor heard from Saviola, nor received any answers to any letter written to my father and friends. “I knew that my father must long have left the archipelago, but I supposed that he must have—as usual—left orders for any letters that might come for him after his departure to be forwarded to his new address; so, though I had expected delay, I had not anticipated final disappointment. “It was now the first of October, and many tourists were leaving the lake. Saviola had left me amply provided with funds, so that I had no fear of embarrassment, especially as I was very economical, only applying the ill-gotten money to my barest necessities. Besides, I had my boy, so that I was able to wait quite cheerfully the return of my husband. “Ah me! It was not Saviola that I was troubled about. It was my father. At length it occurred to me to write to my father’s London bankers to inquire for him. And I wondered that I had never thought of doing so before. “On this occasion I received a prompt answer, which was at once encouraging and depressing, as you will see, contradictory as the statement seems. Messrs. Rhodes told me that the earl had taken the countess to the Canaries for her ladyship’s health, and that they had wintered there, but that in May they had sailed for an extensive yachting cruise, from which they were expected to return to England some time in February. “So my father could never have received any of my letters, and was therefore not the unbending, unforgiving, pitiless father I had thought him. He had probably written me many letters whose final destination was the dead-letter office. I might still hope for his ready forgiveness. So far the news was encouraging. “But, then, on the other hand, he would not return until February. This was the depressing feature in the letter. Yet the encouraging circumstances outweighed the depressing item, so that, on the whole, I was more hopeful and more cheerful.