THE 8TORY O6 A PICTURE.

as ever, seemed a little more demure and not quite as
talkative as usual. Though Pietro had not admired
the rich trinket as she had thought he would, now she
did not feel in the least disappointed; but he had
spoken as she had never before heard any one speak, and
every moment she found herself dwelling on the strange
words, that seemed so new yet beautiful to her.
 When the sun had set, and she rose to go, he
walked back with her to the little bridge.
 "Good night, Maria!" he said; "you do not know
how much pleasure you have given me. Remember,
I am grateful for it all."
 She looked up at him, startled by his words
and the unusual tone in which they were spoken,
and she thought that never had she seen him look so
sad.
 Grateful to me, Pietro! and I take up all your
time, and am so stupid still. But you'll make me
clever, I'm sure you will." And she laughed merrily,
but she could not dispel the deep shade of sadness on
his face. Good night, Pietro I'll finish that crooked
old tree to-morrow."
 He did not answer; but she bounded away, trip-
ping lightly through the long grass. And so they
parted.
 Morning came, and the sun rose brightly over the
village and the meadows; the household of Signor
Sagasti was astir; but the boy, Pietro, was missed
from his accustomed place. No one cared to seek
him; and the day passed on, but he did not appear.
When, later- on, the steward told his master that
his young servant had not been seen that day, Signor
Sagasti bade him inquire of the other domestics,
,which of them had been with him last, and where;
but when he received no information except that the