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She laid it on a table and sat down.
She was feeling tired.
"But generally he looks so gay, so strong. Don't you remember that
first day you saw him?"
"Ah--then!"
"Of course, when he had fever--"
"No, it wasn't that. Any one might be ill. I think he has things at
home to make him unhappy sometimes."
"Has he been telling you so?"
"Oh, he doesn't complain," Vere said, quickly, and almost with a touch
of heat. "A boy like that couldn't whine, you know, Madre. But one can
understand things without hearing them said. There is some trouble. I
don't know what it is exactly. But I think his step-father--his
Patrigno, as he calls him--must have got into some bother, or done
something horrible. Ruffo seemed to want to tell me, and yet not to
want to tell me. And, of course, I couldn't ask. I think he'll tell me
to-morrow, perhaps."
"Is he coming here to-morrow?"
"Oh, in summer I think he comes nearly every night."
"But you haven't said anything about him just lately.


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