CHAPTER XII.

THE SECRET.

LESSONS were over for the day, and with a wide flapping hat on her head, to protect her from the rays of the sun, which still, at the latter end of November, blazes with tropical fierceness in this southern isle, little Lina stood all by herself on the roof-terrace of her uncle's house, leaning over the parapet, and gazing vacantly at the blue sea. Apparently, something had gone wrong with our little heroine's temper, for the corners of her mouth were turned down instead of up, and every now and then she impatiently stamped her foot on the glazed tiles. Her cherished doll was evidently in disgrace, for there it stood, only half-dressed, propped up in a far-off corner, its pretty simpering face turned to the wall.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" exclaimed Lina, presently, "what a long time Rosalia is stopping in Uncle Pasquale's room; I wonder why he wouldn't let me come in too? It's a great shame! he never shut me out before, and I am sure I havn't been naughty. I do hate people to have secrets. I never have any from Rosalia, and it is so nasty to be up here all by myself. Mamma is writing letters in aunt's room, so I can't go to her, and the doll is naughty, and the rabbits stupider than ever. Oh, I do wish Rosalia would come and play with me." And, thereupon, Lina gave another stamp with her foot, and two big tears of vexation and self pity rolled down her sunburnt cheeks. Just then, hearing footsteps on the stairs, she rushed across the terrace to see if it were her cousin. No! it was only Alfonsa, with the coffee-mill under her arm, coming to grind the next day's supply out in the warm sunshine.

"What's the matter, signorina?" asked the old servant, noticing Lina's woe-begone face.

"Oh, nothing!" said the child, pettishly, shrugging

her shoulders; "but I am waiting for Rosalia, and she is such a long time."

"And you all alone, Poverina!" said old Alfonsa, very pityingly, for she had the true southern detestation of solitude. "That is dreadful; shall I let you grind some of the coffee ?"

"Oh yes, please do!" said Lina, brightening up, and, seizing the mill, she began to turn the handle as vigorously as she could, while Alfonsa, with her arms tucked under her apron, stood by her side, enjoying the pleasures of idleness and gossiping about all sorts of things in her rapid Sicilian, which, by this time, Lina understood very fairly.

"And my niece is going to be married next month," she went on, after having given Lina a complete sketch of her family history; "and she may thank me that she can marry so soon, for I am going to give her a good lump of my savings, and all the things I bought years ago for my own wedding."

"How is it you are not married then, Alfonsa ?" inquired Lina, much interested, and pausing from her labour, to rest her aching arm.

"Ah! that's a sad story!" said the old woman, shaking her head and heaving a deep sigh. "We had been engaged a long time, and my Doro had bought a good bit of furniture, and I had got all our house-linen-for you know, signorina, we Sicilians never marry till we have enough things to set up housekeeping properly—when he had to go and be a soldier again, though he had nearly served out all his time before; and he got a bad fever, and when he did come back at last, he was a dying man; and so I never married after all."

Lina looked up at her pityingly, but remained silent. She never could say anything when she felt very sorry; then, after a pause, anxious to get back to more cheerful subjects, she said:

"And so you are going to give all your things to your niece. How pleased she must be !"

"Ay! that she is, for she is a good girl, but, Dio Buono! there's nothing like relations for ingratitude. Her mother says it's a shame I didn't give the things to the other girl who turned nun a few years ago, and then she might have got a

husband too; but it isn't true, signorina, for Filomena was a born nun, if ever there was one, even at your age, and she's as happy as the day is long. I often see her sitting at the window and fanning herself just like a lady, when I pass the convent. Signorina Lia knows her, for she sometimes goes with me, when I run in to have a chat with her at the grating."

"Couldn't you take me one day, dear Alfonsa ?" asked Lina, coaxingly, "I should so like to talk to a real nun."

Alfonsa was much flattered at the request. "Nothing easier," she said, for the nuns at Palermo were not boxed up as closely as she heard they were in other parts. The very next Sunday she would take her if the Signora Mamma would allow it; and Lina began to think how nice it would be, if, for once, she could exchange the long church service at the Consulate--where the glimpse she had from her seat of the bright sea and waving trees outside always made it so hard to attend to the sermon-for a peep at the unknown convent-world.