want of complexion in the face and of flesh in the figure. Men might
dispute her claims to beauty--but no one could deny that she was, in
the common phrase, an interesting person. Grace and refinement; a
quickness of apprehension and a vivacity of movement, suggestive of
some foreign origin; a childish readiness of wonder, in the presence of
new objects--and perhaps, under happier circumstances, a childish
playfulness with persons whom she loved--were all characteristic
attractions of the modest stranger who was in the charge of the ugly
old woman, and who was palpably the object of that wrinkled duenna's
devoted love.

A travelling writing-case stood open on a table near them. In an
interval of silence the girl looked at it reluctantly. They had been
talking of family affairs--and had spoken in Italian, so as to keep
their domestic secrets from the ears of the strangers about them. The
old woman was the first to resume the conversation.

"My Carmina, you really ought to write that letter," she said; "the
illustrious Mrs. Gallilee is waiting to hear of our arrival in London."

Carmina took up the pen, and put it down again with a sigh. "We only
arrived last night," she pleaded. "Dear old Teresa, let us have one day
in London by ourselves!"

Teresa received this proposal with undisguised amazement and alarm,

"Jesu Maria! a day in London--and your aunt waiting for you all the
time! She is your second mother, my dear, by appointment; and her house
is your new home. And you propose to stop a whole day at an hotel,
instead of going home. Impossible! Write, my Carmina--write. See, here