She closed the door, and hastened back to the invalid’s room. The young widow lay back among the pillows, her eyes closed and the dew of tears glittering on the dark fringe of her lashes. “Dear Mrs. Severn,” cried Italy, and the invalid looked at her with a wan smile, “I have come back to apologize for my ridiculous haste in leaving. I have a canary, you know, I was not certain that I had closed my door tightly, and I feared the cat might get him.” “Ah, I thought you had a frightened look!” cried Mrs. Severn. “But I hope you found your little pet safe.” “Yes, quite safe, thank you.” “Then sit down again, won’t you, for I was in earnest when I told mama that I wanted you to help me select a name for my baby. I have been so ill and unhappy since she came, I could not choose her name. Won’t you suggest something?” Italy was so glad that she did not recur to the subject of her husband’s murder that she very willingly consented to this request, and a half-hour was spent by the two new friends in suggesting and weighing the merits of respective names. “Let it be Mabel,” Mrs. Severn said at last, and then burst into tears. “Oh, to think of Craig being dead, and never seeing and knowing baby,” she sobbed. Mrs. Mays entered at that moment, and while she was comforting the mourner, Italy made her escape to her own room. “What shall I do now?” she wondered; “I cannot go to Mr. Gardner as I wished, and I cannot decide whether it is best for me to send for him to come to me and confide in him or not. I will wait until to-morrow before I make up my mind.” A servant tapped at the door and handed in the morning’s mail, a letter with a foreign postmark. Italy saw that it was in the writing of her young lover, Emmett Harlow. He had been abroad two months now, and absorbed in her recent troubles, she had scarcely thought of him for weeks, but the exquisite poem that dropped out of the envelope when she opened it proved that Emmett had by no means forgotten the fair girl who had rejected his love. The verses closed without signature, but Italy knew the firm, bold hand too well to doubt who had sent this tender token from across the sea to hint of his unchanged devotion. She sighed as she thought of the warm, true heart whose love she could not return. Not for one moment did Italy believe Mrs. Dunn’s accusation against Emmett. She thought the lady was mistaken, and that, after all, the whole affair had been an accident. Francis Murray had done all that he could to foster this belief in her mind. It seemed to him impossible that this young and innocent girl could have a murderous enemy, and he was acting in blind faith when he assured Italy of this belief. CHAPTER XIV. PERCY SEABRIGHT’S ADVICE. While she was musing, with gentle regret, over her absent friend, Emmett, the little bell-boy reappeared with a card that bore the name: “Percy Seabright.”