"Good-bye. I will be sure to come to-morrow."

"Try to come early, so that I may have time
to see you alone. Father Cardi will be here.
Arthur, my dear boy, be careful while I am gone;
don't be led into doing anything rash, at least before
I come back. You cannot think how anxious
I feel about leaving you."

"There is no need, Padre; everything is quite
quiet. It will be a long time yet."

"Good-bye," Montanelli said abruptly, and sat
down to his writing.

The first person upon whom Arthur's eyes fell,
as he entered the room where the students' little
gatherings were held, was his old playmate, Dr.
Warren's daughter. She was sitting in a corner
by the window, listening with an absorbed and
earnest face to what one of the "initiators," a tall
young Lombard in a threadbare coat, was saying
to her. During the last few months she had
changed and developed greatly, and now looked a
grown-up young woman, though the dense black
plaits still hung down her back in school-girl
fashion. She was dressed all in black, and had
thrown a black scarf over her head, as the room
was cold and draughty. At her breast was a spray
of cypress, the emblem of Young Italy. The