grateful; but she would willingly have placed her elsewhere could she
have done so with a clear conscience.

"My son will never do ill by any creature under his roof," she
thought. "But still youth is youth; and the girl grows."

"We must dower her and mate her; eh, your reverence?" she said to Don
Silverio when he passed by later in that day.

"Willingly," he answered. "But to whom? To the owls or the cats at
Ruscino?"

In himself he thought, "She is as straight and as slight as a
chestnut wand, but she is as strong. When you shall try to bend her
where she shall not want to go you will not succeed."

For he knew the character of Nerina in the confessional better than
Clelia Alba judged of it in her house.

"It was not wise to bring her here," he added aloud. "But having
committed that error it would be unfair to charge the child with the
painful payment of it. You are a just woman, my good friend; you must
see that."

Clelia saw it clearly, for she never tried to trick her conscience.

"Your reverence mistakes me," she answered. "I would not give her to
any but a good man and a good home."

"They are not common," said Don Silverio. "Nor are they as easy to