The signorina will as surely come back as the sun will fall through the window to-morrow no less than to-day.

Her own doves have often been missing for a day or two, but they were sure to come fluttering about her head again, when she least expected them.

So will it be with this dove-like child." "It might be so," thought Kenyon, with yearning anxiety, "if a pure maiden were as safe as a dove, in this evil world of ours." As they returned through the studio, with the furniture and arrangements of which the sculptor was familiar, he missed a small ebony writing-desk that he remembered as having always been placed on a table there.

He knew that it was Hilda's custom to deposit her letters in this desk, as well as other little objects of which she wished to be specially careful.
"What has become of it ?" he suddenly inquired, laying his hand on the table.
"Become of what, pray ?" exclaimed the woman, a little disturbed.

"Does the Signore suspect a robbery, then ?" "The signorina's writing-desk is gone," replied Kenyon; "it always stood on this table, and I myself saw it there only a few days ago." "Ah, well!" said the woman, recovering her composure, which she seemed partly to have lost.