people, represented to Teresa's mind something in the nature of a
miracle: she solemnly raised her eyes to heaven. "What a cousin to
have! Is he young? is he handsome? is he married?"

Instead of answering these questions, Carmina looked over her shoulder.
"Is this poor creature following us?" she asked.

They had now turned to the right, and had entered a busy street leading
directly to Covent Garden. The "creature" (who was undoubtedly
following them) was one of the starved and vagabond dogs of London.
Every now and then, the sympathies of their race lead these inveterate
wanderers to attach themselves, for the time, to some human companion,
whom their mysterious insight chooses from the crowd. Teresa, with the
hard feeling towards animals which is one of the serious defects of the
Italian character, cried, "Ah, the mangy beast!" and lifted her
umbrella. The dog starred back, waited a moment, and followed them
again as they went on.

Carmina's gentle heart gave its pity to this lost and hungry
fellow-creature. "I must buy that poor dog something to eat," she
said--and stopped suddenly as the idea struck her.

The dog, accustomed to kicks and curses, was ignorant of kindness.
Following close behind her, when she checked herself, he darted away in
terror into the road. A cab was driven by rapidly at the same moment.
The wheel passed over the dog's neck. And there was an end, as a man
remarked looking on, of the troubles of a cur.

This common accident struck the girl's sensitive nature with horror.
Helpless and speechless, she trembled piteously. The nearest open door