Carmina's sweet smile stopped him there.

"We don't know what may happen," she said, playfully.

"God forbid _that_ should happen!" He spoke so fervently that the women
all looked at him in surprise.

Mrs. Gallilee turned to her niece, and proceeded quietly with what she
had to say.

"Ovid is so sadly overworked, my dear, that I actually rejoice in his
giving up practice, and going away from us to-morrow. We will leave you
for the present with your old friend. Pray ring, if you want anything."
She kissed her hand to Carmina, and, beckoning to her son, advanced
towards the door.

Teresa looked at her, and suddenly looked away again. Mrs. Gallilee
stopped on her way out, at a chiffonier, and altered the arrangement of
some of the china on it. The duenna followed on tiptoe--folded her
thumb and two middle fingers into the palm of her hand--and, stretching
out the forefinger and the little finger, touched Mrs. Gallilee on the
back, so softly that she was unaware of it. "The Evil Eye," Teresa
whispered to herself in Italian, as she stole back to her place.

Ovid lingered near his cousin: neither of them had seen what Teresa had
done. He rose reluctantly to go. Feeling his little attentions
gratefully, Carmina checked him with innocent familiarity as he left
his chair. "I must thank you," she said, simply; "it seems hard indeed
that you, who cure others, should suffer from illness yourself."