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But she returned his
gaze almost sternly, and said:
"What's the matter, Gaspare? Why do you look at me like that?"
"Signora!"
He seemed startled, and slightly reddened, then looked hurt and almost
sulky.
"May I not look at you, Signora?" he asked, rather defiantly. "Have I
the evil eye?"
"No--no, Gaspare! Only--only you looked at me as if something were the
matter. Do I look ill?"
She asked the question with a forced lightness, with a smile. He
answered, bluntly:
"Si, Signora. You look very ill."
She put up her hand to her face instinctively, as if to feel whether
his words were true.
"But I'm perfectly well," she said.
"You look very ill, Signora," he returned.
"I'm a little bit tired, perhaps."
He said no more, and rowed steadily on for a while. But presently she
found him looking gravely at her again.
"Signora," he began, "the Signorina loves the island."
"Yes, Gaspare."
"Do you love it?"
The question startled her. Had he read her thoughts in the last days?
"Don't you think I love it?" she asked.


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