Tito turned and reentered the house. Monna Lisa was nodding; he went up to Tessa, and found her crying by the side of her baby.
“Tessa,” he said, sitting down and taking her head between his hands; “leave off crying, little goose, and listen to me.”
He lifted her chin upward, that she might look at him, while he spoke very distinctly and emphatically.
“You must never speak to that old man again. He is a mad old man, and he wants to kill me. Never speak to him or listen to him again.”
Tessa’s tears had ceased, and her lips were pale with fright.
“Is he gone away?” she whispered.
“He will go away. Remember what I have said to you.”
“Yes; I will never speak to a stranger any more,” said Tessa, with a sense of guilt.
He told her, to comfort her, that he would come again tomorrow; and then