The little home in which they resided in quiet retirement had been given to the widow for as long as she chose to occupy it by a friend of her late husband, as a token of respect to his memory.  Eugenio Noele, ashamed to see a sister of his living in a way so unsuited to her birth and former expectations, requested her to dispose of whatever property she might be possessed of, and prepare to accompany him with her family to London, where he would provide for them, and his nephew Eugenio, leaving his studies, could take a place in his counting-house.  This request—­or rather command—­was embraced with gratitude, though it cost a pang to think of leaving the home that had sheltered them under many vicissitudes.  Besides which, it was a matter of doubt to Signora Mortera and her eldest son whether any worldly promotion could justify his deserting the priestly vocation to which he had felt himself called.

One evening my mother and I were surprised by a call from Rugiero.  His face was pale and his eyes were wild.  He sank into an easy-chair, and after a long silence broke into the most terrible invectives against his brother Eugenio, who had dragged the widow and orphans from a peaceful home to cast them adrift.

“What widow? what orphans?”

“Simply, Madama Melville, my poor sister Lucretia, whom he induced to accompany him to London, with her family, on the pretence of providing for them all, is now with those children at my house, without means, without even a change of clothing.  Yes, my sister Lucretia, who was a mother to him when his own mother died; and yet he prospers!”

“But, Rugiero, what was the cause of his treating them thus?”

“When they had arrived at my brother’s house the wife, who had not expected them, took an aversion to them, and no sooner did she learn that they were strict Roman Catholics than she believed them to be capable of every crime.  Celestino, who is in a decline, was treated with the greatest neglect.  Every occasion of showing disrespect toward her sister-in-law before her children or the servants was eagerly sought by my brother’s wife, whilst in the presence of her husband she was all amiability.  The sickness of one of her own children was made the occasion of accusing Lucretia of an attempt to poison it, and the wily woman so worked on my brother’s parental feelings that he had not returned home an hour ere he commanded his ’infamous sister’—­’quel assassinatrice!’—­to leave his house with her children on the instant!  The door was closed upon them, and the outer apparel that had served them for their journey was thrown to them from the window by the servants.  Amazed and full of grief, they directed their steps toward the house of the good priest whose chapel they had once or twice attended.  Here they procured my address, and soon after came to my house, where they now are in the extremest affliction.  You, madama, may well imagine that I can scarcely maintain my own family at this juncture, and that I am therefore unable to do for my sister and her children what my heart dictates.  After a sleepless night I came to the conclusion that you, Madama Melville, whose goodness of heart has so often been put sorely to the test, would be able to suggest some plan by which to mitigate the sufferings of my unfortunate sister or bring Eugenio to reason.”